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OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF: 



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HIS LIFE OF TRIAL AND SUPREME FAITH. 



CHARLES i.ANMAN. 



It was his business to be troubled, and his portion to be comforted. — 

Jeremy Tayloi 



1 QTO 



WASHINGTON: 

JAMES ANGLIM, 

1879. 






O 






^ 



* 



Entered in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, in the year 1879, by Charles 
Lanman, of Georgetown, D. C. 



JUDD & DETWEILER, PRINTERS. 
WASHINGTON, D. C. 



CONTENTS 



Early Life in Bermuda 










1 


Later Life in Bermuda 










15 


Mercantile Experiences 










23 


Amenia Seminary 










43 


Trinity College . . . . 










55 


Early Parish Experiences 










71 


The General Theological Seminary 










79 


Evangelical Education Society 










111 


Later Parish Experiences 










137 


Letters to Mrs. Perin chief 










155 


Letters to Thomas D. Middleton . 










189 


Letters to W. and R. B. Peet 










211 


Letters to John A. Graham . 










231 


Letters to the Editor 










239 


Letters to John S. Reese 










293 


Miscellaneous Letters . 










303 


A Chapter of Advice . 










354 


The Close of Life 










367 


Tributes of Affection . , , 










379 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. 



Octavius Pemnchief was one of the best, and most gifted 
men of his time. His record as a preacher, within the pale 
of the Protestant Episcopal Church, has passed into ecclesi- 
astical history, and his name is entitled to careful con- 
sideration. 

By his teachings he did much to purify and elevate his 
fellow-men; in his every day life he strove constantly to 
practice what he preached; — and the study of his character 
must therefore be of interest to those who cherish his 
memory, as well as to the public at large. 

The materials out of which I propose to construct this 
volume, are : a manuscript which he left, entitled, " A 
Father's Legacy to his Children ;" several short journals 
which he kept at intervals ; and such correspondence as I 
have been able to obtain, addressed to members of his 
family, and various devoted friends. 

On the fly-leaf of the manuscript entitled a "Legacy" I 
find written in pencil, these words : " A Hermit's thoughts 
upon this and other worlds." As there was nothing in his 
nature Or habits allied to the character of a hermit, I can 
hardly suppose that the above words were intended as a title 
for his manuscript ; but with the word hermit excluded, 
they would very properly describe all the material out of 
which this volume is formed. In the opening paragraph of 
the first-named manuscript, he gives his reasons for writing 
it as follows : 

"I write for my own children, and propose to make it a 
sort of medley of biography, history, philosophy, and I trust, 



2 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

through all, much theology, or that which teaches of God, 
and elevates and blesses the human soul. 

" There are some reasons why I should write what I pro- 
pose. Few men were ever more blessed than I have been. 
He, so blessed, ought to leave some record of his life. I 
desire my children to consider patiently and thankfully all 
I say and to follow implicitly the suggestions which I may 
submit. I think I shall show them that the fear of God is 
the beginning of wisdom, and the love of God, the con- 
summation of happiness. I urge them to strive always to 
be rather than to appear to be. I wish to make them under- 
stand that the simplest and truest humanity, is the best of 
all exaltation : I can tell them that God's service is the only 
service which is followed by any worthy reward. He who 
is servant to all, is greatest of all. He who has most love, 
most patience, most silence, most charity, has greatest riches. 
Earth is only a school house. Providence is a great and 
good teacher. They learn most who commune most with 
their own souls, with nature and with God, — who make the 
words of Jesus a lamp to their feet, and a light to their 
path. What I most of all rejoice in, is the escape I effected 
from ignorance and vice. What I consider my greatest 
earthly enjoyment, is communion with the enlightened and 
virtuous, the refined and holy." 

After stating that he was born in the largest of the Ber- 
muda Islands, or as Shakspeare called them, the "Still 
vexed Bermoothes," in the Parish of Warwick, on the 2d 
of October, 1829, he tells us, that, while his father and both 
grandfathers were merchants in affluent circumstances, they 
were men of the world. Although the fact is not mentioned 
in his journals, it is nevertheless true, that he claimed de- 
scent from King Charles the First, and his family were 
compelled to leave England during the troubles of the 
seventeenth century. He possessed at least one quality 
which belonged to that king, for he was always ready to 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. 6 

forgive his enemies. A certain degree of prosperity having 
been followed by reverses, the circumstances of his family 
were straitened during the whole of his earlier boyhood. 
"When in his ninth year, the institution of slavery was abol- 
ished in Bermuda, and while he remembered the joy with 
which the slaves of his father went forth free, the money 
which had been received for them did not prove of any 
lasting benefit to the family. The great feature connected 
with his home was the presence of his mother. She was a 
widow with two daughters, when his father married her, 
and she was possessed of a small fortune. Octavius was the 
second of five children, all boys. Owing to circumstances, 
which need not be mentioned, according to his own narra- 
tive : — " Everything, even to the furnishing of our daily bread 
devolved upon her, and many were the expedients to which 
she was driven. She was a patient, hardworking, and 
peace-making woman. She had faith in God, and never 
forgot to instruct us in our religious duties. Never a Sun- 
day came but she would go to church, and require us to 
attend her. Well do I remember her toiling nearly all 
night that we might have clothes to wear. God bless my 
mother! God will bless such a mother. One of my most 
fervent hopes is that through all eternity I shall be near her 
to praise and bless her for her love. Sweet were the sounds 
of her morning hymn. Most vivid upon my mind is the 
recollection of waking one particular night, and finding 
her praying by my side." 

With boys, generally speaking, the catching of fish is 
merely a pastime, but the following account explains how 
young Perinchief once went upon a fishing excursion for an 
important purpose : 

" We had nothing at home to eat. I proposed to my 
younger brother that we should go fishing. We accord- 
ingly went, with the echo of our mother's voice lingering 
in our ears — " to be careful." Our luck was very good, for 



4 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

we caught several smaller fishes of different kinds. At 
length I looked up and saw a line which had been tied to a 
rock was very much stretched, as if a fish were fastened to 
it. I ran and took hold of it, but much to my regret found 
a fish had swallowed the hook and run into a hole or shelf 
of rock, as it is the habit of some fish to do. I quite lost 
my patience. I did not wait at the line till he should come 
out again, but in my anger broke it in two and went back 
to another and smaller line. At this time the tide was on 
the ebb, and before long became so low, it was too shallow 
for us to fish any longer, and besides it was getting late 
and time to go home. Just then I looked and saw quite a 
large fish very near the shore and where the ripples broke 
upon the rock. When I went near him he did not go 
off, and to my great surprise, I saw it was a fish with a 
hook in his mouth, with two yards of line attached. This 
line owing to the action of the ripples upon it, had become 
entangled around a coral and the fish could not get awa} 7 . 
I cleared the line, and caught the fish. We returned home 
with quite a number of fishes, and that night had a good 
supper, and went to bed cheerful and happy. But the fish 
coming up there in that way, taken in connection with my 
impatience, made an impression upon my mind which has 
never worn off'. It seemed to me like a voice from heaven. 
I felt much ashamed of myself. I could see God's goodness 
very plainly, and that night I wept myself to sleep. In 
later years that incident has come to me to tell me, " be of 
good cheer, God will provide." 

It was while he was yet a mere boy that his elder brother 
was sent to sea, because of his wild conduct, and circum- 
stances virtually gave him the position of elder brother. " I 
shall have occasion," he writes, " to mention this brother 
again. Strange has been the Providence of God. He re- 
mained the only boy of us all, with the unspeakable privi- 
lege of protecting and providing for my mother in her 
declining years. Though all my hopes and endeavors strug- 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. 5 

gled for years towards the attainment of this privilege, it 
was never granted. He who in one sense owed her least, 
has done most, and I who in many senses owed her most, 
have done least. I have a feeling — a faith — that in another 
world God will not only grant that we shall know each 
other, but give us means of expressing all our love for every 
one we have loved, and so of rewarding them for every deed 
of kindness which testified to their fidelity here. In this 
faith it is my earnest hope God will give me opportunity , 
in heaven, to serve my mother forever." 

We now come to the school days of the boy Perinchief. 
After stating that he was by no means a strong child, but 
timid, cautious, and to some extent considerate, he thus 
proceeds : " While we were quite young we went to school to 
an old lady near by, who taught us to read. She was kind 
— always sent us home early when it looked rainy, and 
allowed us to stay out of doors all the afternoon, if she 
happened to have company at dinner. She would, in rainy 
weather, wrap us up in tippets and shawls, but I was always 
responsible for the whole bundle the next morning. At last 
it became palpable that it was useless to send us to school 
there any longer. The next school — because the only one 
— was five miles away. There was a ferry, by crossing 
which, the distance could be reduced about two miles ; but 
we had no way of paying fare, so we had to walk all the 
way round, as it was called. The man who kept this school 
was a distant relation of ours, and he taught us for nothing. 
After a while it began to appear that I was not able to take 
such a walk every day — ten miles — down and back, and my 
mother sent word that I could not go to school any longer. 
I am inclined to think that I was a tolerably attentive 
scholar, for I remember when it was proposed to remove 
me, the teacher prevailed upon my mother to board me at 
a place near the school. This was tried ; but after six 
months or so it became evident that my board could not be 
paid, and I was returned to the daily walk, together with 



6 OCTAVIUS PEEINCHIEF. 

my three brothers. For about a year — perhaps two — my 
cares were considerable. In the first place I was far from 
strong. Sometimes my mother would provide me with a 
pair of shoes. When these were worn out, man}^ weeks 
elapsed before I could get another pair. In these intervals 
I frequently took a severe cold. Besides I was very much 
mortified at having no shoes. To be sure many of the boys 
wore none, but it seemed to me that every boy knew the 
poverty which reigned at home, and I was exceedingly shy. 
I mingled very little with the other boys, and seldom par- 
ticipated in their sports. I delighted in being alone ; and 
one of the chief employments which devolved upon me, in 
consequence of this, was to take care of the smaller children, 
and keep them out of danger and mischief. In addition to 
this I was responsible at night, at home, for the behaviour 
of my brothers during the day. I had to see them early at 
school, early at home, and keep them out of mischief by the 
way. * * My brother, next younger, was a most willful 
resolute boy — faltered at nothing, and impatient of restraint. 
At first he was not unmanageable, but another boy, who 
went to the same school, did much toward making my 
brother the boy he was. These two spoiled all the rest. 
J^ever shall I forget a whipping my father gave us during 
this period. It was no new thing for us to get whipped, 
but so severe a punishment was unusual, and mine was as 
bad as any, though in that case, at least, I did not deserve 
it." The cause of this whipping, he tells us, was the bad 
treatment which the brothers, while on their way home 
from school, had inflicted upon a colored woman, by throw- 
ing stones at her, and as she followed them home and 
demanded that they should be punished, her wishes were 
complied with. " At length," he continues, " my father 
went toward a pomegranate tree, the branch of which is 
peculiarly tough and straight, and from which he always 
took a whip, when he intended to be unusually severe. 
We knew what was coming, and submitted. But I got the 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. 7 

worst whipping I ever had, and did not get over it, physi- 
cally or mentally, for many days. I do not mean to say 
that I was always equally guiltless. The receiver is as bad 
as the thief, and many were the guavas, oranges, banannas, 
and other fruits, I shared as the result of their plunder ; 
and sometimes as bribes for my silence. In all this I did 
wrong, and consequently deserved part of the punishment. 
" I never shall forget a wound my spirit received, unin- 
tentionally and unknowingly given by my mother, and 
growing too out of my fidelity to the trust which in this 
way had devolved upon me. I mention it to show how 
careful we should be to appreciate any kind action, even 
though it be awkwardly or unwisely done. We all of us 
sometimes find fault with others, when, in reality they 
deserve praise. With the young particularly, we can never 
be too careful in giving them credit for kindness, and then, 
if anything be wrong, at some other time we should point 
out the wrong. At our school we always had an intermis- 
sion of two hours. During this interval we would eat our 
lunch of dry bread, and then go to the wharf of the toAvn, 
or loiter in the shade of the trees along the street. One 
day while we were standing in the street, our attention 
being directed to a boat on the bay, a negro with a wheel- 
barrow, having in it a barrel of flour, came cruelly up and 
without giving us any notice, wheeled right into the little 
group of boys. The first sign we had of the fact was a 
terrific scream from my younger brother, when we saw the 
blood spouting from his foot. For an instant anger par- 
alyzed me, but pity for my poor brother brought me to my 
senses, and I had him in my arms bearing him to a neigh- 
boring store. I thought of the doctor, and two of us took 
the patient to his office, but found the wound was not dan- 
gerous. My thoughts now all turned upon the one object 
of getting him home. I had seen a cart in the village that 
morning, belonging to a lady who lived within a mile and 
& half of our house. Though it was in town for a load, I 



8 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

thought it probable that the humanity of the driver would 
not refuse me a ride for my brother. I went in search of 
the cart, found it and realized my hopes. When the cart 
came to its stopping place, I got a stick for my brother to 
walk with, then rested him every little while, until we 
reached home. Of course my mother was at first greatly 
alarmed, and after my brother had gone to sleep, and it 
seemed after all a very small affair, my mother asked me 
— as I thought complainingly — why I had not gone to school 
and let him wait till night, or else come on by himself? 
The question was so unexpected, so unnatural as it seemed 
to me, I had nothing to answer. It thrilled my entire 
nature. I had no. power of describing to her the whole 
scene, I could think only of the idea of deserting the poor 
little fellow in his misfortune, and the question seemed to 
me like an accusation. I wept about it by myself, and 
nobody knew any harm had been done. I went very cheer- 
fully with the boy when his foot got well, to thank the 
doctor, who made no charge for his services." 

" And now in speaking about wounding the spirits of 
others unknowingly, I remember another instance in which 
a whole day, which should have been a day of joy was 
turned into bitterness. People think children forget, but 
it is a great mistake. There was gotten up a large pic-nic 
party, chiefly by my cousins, and because of our relation- 
ship, we were invited, — the party going off to a little island 
some distance away, to spend the day. We went in a kind 
of sloop belonging to an uncle, and on this occasion we 
had the entire range. Boy like, we roved all over her, and 
I suppose sometimes to the annoyance of the older members 
of the party, especially an elderly relative whom I never 
remember to have met with much pleasure. We of course 
had on our Sunday clothes, and among the rest our Sunday 
caps. In some corner I had picked up a cobweb, and soon 
after, while standing near me, she snatched the cap from 
my head, and asked me whether I was not ashamed to come 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. V 

from home with such a cap as that, and why I had not 
brushed it, and sundry questions of that kind. God only 
knows how a human soul is touched, but that day mine was 
stricken. I did not happen to think that I must have 
gathered that cobweb in my rambles about the sloop, and 
my whole nature was alive with what I saw at once was a 
reflection on my mother. I thought of her, up that morn- 
ing before day-break, getting things ready for us, getting 
our breakfast, then calling us and seeing us all clean, and 
our clothes neat. I thought of her at home alone, for she 
never went out excepting to church. The tears filled my 
eyes, sadness flooded my heart. I was at a pic-nic in body, 
but my soul was heavy and at home." 

Following the above is an account of how the scarlet 
fever prostrated all the boys of the family, and after giving 
a charming account of one of his brothers, he thus describes 
his death : — " He was very kind and forgiving in his dispo- 
sition, at the same time cheerful. I think he was the most 
loving of us all. I never knew him to remember a grudge. 
Slowly, the dear little fellow wasted away. I felt death was 
coming. There was a new solemnity everywhere. All who 
came to see us, of our own relations, were mournful. No 
clergyman came. I do not like to think of how we were 
neglected. At length one morning, he asked my mother to 
pray with him. I felt even then God was with the boy. I 
do not know how such an impression took hold upon me, 
but I felt the Spirit of God was there. It is true my mother 
had taught us to say our prayers, but we seldom talked of 
God or of heaven. Nobody had told the little fellow he 
was going to die, and when he looked up so patiently and 
asked mother to pray for him and with him, I seemed to 
hear the angels calling him, and knew he was going to 
leave us. With a very full heart I left home to go to school 
that morning. Nobody seemed to think I ought to go — 
but my object was to ask my teacher — a Christian — to come 



10 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

and see him. I thought it would comfort and console the 
boy. In the evening he kindly came, but the boy was 
unconscious, and the teacher could say nothing to him. At 
twelve o'clock of that solemn, silent night he joined the 
angels, who waited to carry him to a better home. It 
grieved me so to see poor mother's sufferings. Poor as we 
were, — we were all her comfort, — and now when she went 
to the little closet, to lay out his clothes, we all gathered 
around her, and bitter, truly, was that hour. Her little 
circle was broken — one was gone. Poor father. I knew 
his heart was heavy. I cannot forget a counterpart to all 
this too which made me still more sad. I mention it 
because, 1 remember, I thought my mother did wrong. In 
the English church under whose regulations we were, it was 
allowed or required that the clergy should receive fees for 
the exercise of any function of their office. Thus, for a 
baptism, so much — for a funeral, so much — and if a funeral 
sermon, were preached, then so much more. It was the cus- 
tom to pay the fees without any formal demand for them, 
and the rich had made it customary to add something to the 
original fee — till in process of time it was almost criminal 
to make these gifts less than that which custom had estab- 
lished. For a funeral and sermon, the fee was six dollars. 
~Now my mother could not afford to pay this, but yielding 
to her affectionate regard for the boy she had lost, and to 
the feeling more appropriate to her former circumstances, 
she engaged the rector to preach a funeral sermon. Those 
men did not often preach more than fifteen minutes and 
beside all that, what can a man do who works for pay? 
After some time I was se-nt to carry the money. I do not 
know where mother got it. I only know that sad and heavy 
was every step of the mile and a half J had to go. Every 
one of those dollars was counted over and over, — every one 
bathed in sighs, if not in tears. Endless reflections seemed 
to centre in them, — the loss of the brother, the poverty o 1 
home, the meanness of such a church system as that under 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. 11 

the sacred name of Christianity, but especially the thought 
of leaving school and going out to . make a living for 
myself." 

As we have seen, the school days of this Bermuda boy 
had very little sunshine in them, and as we proceed we shall 
find the weather of life still cloudy and always lowering. 
But let us take another glimpse of the student before he 
passes into a new sphere. " I was now approaching," as 
he tells us, " the age of fourteen. I had been thinking it 
was high time that I should be doing something to relieve 
my mother. What to do I did not know; nor had I a 
mortal to help me. Some boys, about my age, picked up 
a support by being what they called clerks in stores. I 
thought of this, though I confess I had anything but respect 
for such a kind of life. The boys thus engaged, fairly 
threw themselves away, as it seemed to me. The stores, 
so-called, were only retail establishments, and very inferior, 
even at that. There was nothing to stimulate a noble ambi- 
tion, and there were many influences constantly at work to 
corrupt, — to produce selfishness, sensuality, and vice. But 
the resources of the Island were so limited there was noth- 
ing else to be done. With my mother's consent I applied 
myself to find an l opening.' The news of this reached 
my teacher, and he did not approve the plan. I urged all 
sorts of reasons — among others that I could not walk so far 
every day. He offered me a home at his house for five days 
out of every week, while I was to go on with my studies, 
and at the same time help him as an assistant teacher. He 
was very considerate, and hoped I would like that kind of 
life, and but for my troubles I should probably have done 
so. I was, at any rate, induced to adopt the plan. I had 
time for reading and improving myself; in the main I 
was kindly treated ; but the idea of being dependent con- 
tinually haunted me. My sensibilities at this time grew 
intensely acute. Any reference to my home brought the 
blood to my face. 1 began to feel the slights to which we 



12 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

were subjected. Nobody seemed to care for us. Other 
boys had a kind of place in society, but we poor creatures, 
nobody took any notice of at all. I wondered at this, but 
soon began to see the reasons. It was not virtue which 
was respected, — for wicked men were honored, — honored by 
poor men who were willing to purchase a smile at any cost- 
But we were not rich, to be courted, and though poor, we 
never did any cringing, and so we were simply left alone- 
Such experiences, emotions, and thoughts, however, all put 
together, made my life at this time very unhappy. I rested 
neither day nor night, at home, nor abroad. At last, one 
day, I heard something said in my teacher's family (whose 
name was Alfred T. Deane) about a friend of their's, in a 
distant town, wanting a clerk. This friend had written to 
know if any boy in the school could be recommended. I 
seized upon it instantly. First the town was at the other 
extremity of the Island, — twenty-odd miles away, — and 
down there they knew nothing about me. There they 
would give me board and washing, and one hundred dollars 
a year. Against the remonstrances of my teacher, I got 
him to write and mention me. I, of course, concluded the 
place was secured, and went home that night with a heart 
lighter than I had known it for many a day. I told my 
mother all about it. I was a little surprised that she did 
not enter into it as enthusiastically as I did. My sister, too, 
seemed to be not over zealous. I have learned the reasons 
since. 'Though my elder brother had been sent to sea, he 
had not gone from under the parental roof; and, though I 
had been away five days in the week, it had only been for 
a few months. One dear boy was in the grave, but God 
had taken him, and so there was still peace; but the idea 
of breaking up the home circle forever, cast a deep shadow 
across poor mother's heart, and I do not wonder I saw it, 
though I could not explain it. 

" In a few days a note came addressed to me personally, 
the very sight of my name on a letter, made me feel 



EARLY LIFE IN BERMUDA. 13 

-already a man; the note invited me down to see, and be 
seen, with a view to making a bargain. I wrote a reply in 
my very best style, to say I would take the first stage of 
the next week, and make the proposed visit. Accordingly, 
on Monday morning bright and early, I was astir, walked 
the five miles to the village to get the stage, paid my fare 
like a man, out of money my sister lent me, and found 
myself rattling away with big hopes, and a pleasing sensa- 
tion of being free. Arrived at my destination, of course, I 
was delighted. The establishment with which my destinies 
seemed now to be linked, was larger than any I had seen, 
and I felt a corresponding pride ; and whatever objections 
there might have been to the place, I was utterly beyond 
all power of seeing them. I accepted every proposition, 
and had not the slightest doubt, that the proprietor was as 
much pleased with me, as I was with him. After a while I 
was invited in to dinner, after which to my room, and 
with one attention and another, was quite elated with my 
position. Of course a doubt never entered my mind as to 
my ability to fulfill all that was required of me, I felt equal 
to any charge. At length, the time drawing near for me 
to take the return stage, the bargain was concluded. The 
gentleman wished me to come down immediately, but sud- 
denly the idea flashed across my mind of my finally leaving 
home, and my spirit rather gave way, I began to plead for 
two weeks, at least, thought of poor mother, and of her 
getting me ready;' and urged so hard, that at last it was 
agreed I should enter upon my new vocation two weeks 
from that day. I went home, had a wonderful story to tell 
of what I had seen, and congratulated myself upon the 
happy prospects my future presented. Among other things, 
it was a part of the bargain, that I was to have the gentle- 
man's horse once a month, on Sunday, to make a visit 
home. This pleased me, and I thought it would cheer my 
mother. The two weeks, however, passed away, sometimes 
they seemed long, sometimes short, I lingered, as much as 



14 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

possible, at home, visited my relations, went once more to 
the old familiar fishing places, bathed once more in the 
same surf, and somehow felt that I was taking leave of a 
place, which, be it what it may, was still my home. I used 
to weep at night when I thought of leaving my dear 
mother, and when Monday morning came, and I stood with 
my bundle ready to take leave, I saw them all very sad and 
weeping around me, and turned away with a heavier heart 
than I could have imagined, two weeks before, I should 
ever know. Thus I left a home, to me full of the brightest 
and saddest memories; thus I turned over a new leaf in at 
life which yet gave no true sign of its real future." 



LATER LIFE IN BERMUDA. 



In the present chapter we are to follow young Perinchief 
into his new sphere — a commercial mart, beset with mani- 
fold temptations; and his story will be given entirely in his 
own words, omitting, for want of space, the lessons which 
had been recorded for the benefit of his children. Pie thus 
proceeds : 

" At a little over fourteen years of age, I went out to try 
the world. For a few weeks everything went on with toler- 
able smoothness, and at my first visit home I was able to 
carry a glowing account of my new situation. I had begun, 
however, to experience, even then, a little of the unpleasant- 
ness consequent upon responsibility. I had found out, too, 
a few things about my employer. There was in the store, 
one other clerk, and half teacher to the children of the 
family ; this young man was the son of a Methodist clergy- 
man, who had married a sister of our proprietor, she being 
his second wife ; he was born in England, had in his earlier 
days considerable educational advantages, and possessed 
some talent, but was unfortunately nearly blind. Why his 
father should ever have parted with him I cannot imagine. 
His uncle had taken him out of charity, his father being 
poor, but such charity ! He was left to himself, and under 
the circumstances, it was quite as well. The establishment 
in which we were thus thrown together was one of a mis- 
cellaneous character ; it was a grocery, a dry goods store, a 
bakery, and a meat market all combined. I had charge of 
nearly the entire concern. Added to this the man owned a 
large wharf and did an extensive shipping business. Pie was 



16 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

very little about the premises, except at night, and then he 
was given to indulgence. At intervals, he was fond of 
inspecting things, and then, woe to everybody and every- 
thing. The wife of this man was a very good sort of a 
person, but she had little or no education ; was kind to the 
poor, and good to their poor relations, but in some things 
very indiscreet. She always had about her a great deal of 
company, and servants without end. By degrees, finding 
myself master of the establishment, I acquired a kind of 
adaptability to business, but at the same time from the 
various temptations around me, acquired a free and easy 
way of living. 

" The man for whom I worked had no fear of God or man 
before his eyes. I was taught to be sharp at all sorts of 
bargains. Many a night I had to be out, or up with the 
key of the cellar, for contraband purposes. Having plenty 
of cigars of the best kind in the store, I learned to smoke, 
and with a cellar full of the best liquors I learned also to 
drink. The notion took hold, of me that it was manly ; the 
other clerk and I found a sort of liking for bad society. 
We used to spend many of our evenings improperly. But 
worst of all by neglecting the counsels of his father and the 
instructions of his youth, he had taken it into his head to 
become an infidel. Religion in the town was at a very low 
ebb, and that for many reasons. But this young man from 
being considered smart and well educated or learned, liked 
that kind of notoriety. He and I used to talk and read till we 
considered ourselves philosophers. We ridiculed the clergy 
and everything religious, and used our influence to make 
others as irreligious as ourselves. Sometimes it would be 
hinted to us that such was our reputation, and we liked it 
rather than otherwise. The people were wrapt up in money- 
making, and had not an idea beyond that. In short we 
were left pretty much to drift to destruction, and I began 
to find this out. I had very little home-feeling left, although 
I went home as usual, once in four or five weeks, but the 



LATER LIFE IN BERMUDA. 17 

length of the intervals now made no difference. I took my 
money home as usual, but I never inquired how my mother 
spent it, or whether it helped her at all. I inquired little 
about things at home, lost all sympathy, and did not feel 
that interest in my younger brothers which I once felt, and 
ought then to have felt. One incident in particular brought 
this home to my thoughts. About six months after I left 
home, the brother next to me, though little over twelve 
years of age, began to think of making his own living too ; 
he had no idea of being penned up in a store, and chose to 
go to sea. It was his own desire, and so my mother let him 
go. When he had been gone about six months, we having 
heard from him occasionally, the news came that the vessel 
in which he sailed had been some time missing. After 
awhile all hopes of ever hearing from her died away, and 
the conviction settled upon the hearts of all who had friends 
on board of her, that she was lost. About this time I went 
home one Sunday morning, and found my mother and sister 
and youngest brother, in the deepest affliction at the thought 
of never seeing the poor fellow again. I remember I did 
not enter much into their feelings. My infidel notions 
about this time were very active. I had resolved everything 
into fate, and had, in consequence, no affection for my 
departed brother, or sympathy with his weeping friends. 
My mother looked at me very strangely when I said, " Well 
if he has gone, it is no use making ourselves miserable 
about it." She, however, said little, and next morning I 
left her. My visit, so far from comforting her, having 
added actually to her sorrow. Not long after, there came 
to the town in which I lived, a new Methodist minister. 
lie was a man of education, of talent, and truly' a godly 
man. He was a very earnest preacher, and his soul was in 
his work; he made an impression, by God's grace, on the 
hearts of many. This other clerk and I went every Sun- 
day evening to hear him ; I know I felt for a long time that 
our infidelity was a very foolish thing, and I have great 

2 



18 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

reason to believe that he felt so too. We did not talk 
together quite so much, and there was evidently a new vein 
of thought in our minds. During the week we went on 
just the same, but on Sunday night, after a very solemn and 
impressive sermon upon the necessity of repentance, we 
walked out of church together, and as it were by common 
consent took a certain road. The moon shone very brightly. 
It was one of those lovely nights of winter, such winter as 
is known only in those soft and genial climes, where frosts 
are unknown, where the lime tree and the bananna flourish, 
and the birds sing throughout the year. We went on, out 
of the town, and presently began to give expression to the 
thoughts which were uppermost in the mind of both. " The 
sermon," said one, " How did you like it?" and so on, till 
the conversation was fully introduced. We each confessed 
to the other the extreme folly of such notions as ours had 
been. Conviction had seized upon our hearts; we had 
sinned against light; we knew we were sinning in every 
infidel thought we uttered. Memories of his father came 
floating back across the years. Thoughts of my earlier 
home, recollections of the teachings of my mother, came 
clustering about my soul. Imperceptibly, or rather, uncon- 
sciously, we had kept on our road, now grown very lonely, 
it being only a carriage road around by the beach. The 
waves were slowly beating against the shore, not a sound 
else, but our own voices, could be heard ; the stars and the 
moon looked serenely down. ISTot far off was a grave-yard. 
The white stones standing like sentinels amid the ever- 
greens. All made it a night, solemn, never to be forgotten. 
Out there we resolved to lead a different life. We pledged 
our help 'to each other; come what would, we resolved 
henceforth to be men, neither deceiving ourselves nor 
others, and striving to undo what mischief, in our folly, we 
had done. There was, however, no prayer to God; our 
trust was plainly not in the Divine strength. Quite late in 
the evening we reached home and went to bed. 



LATER LIFE IN BERMUDA. 19 

" Monday morning arrived, and we had to go on as usual. 
Now came the heavy tug of carrying out our resolutions. 
We had spent much time in trying to make infidels; 
toward night or in the evening, one and another of our 
companions came strolling in, whether they noticed any 
change in us I cannot say, but the conversation turned upon 
the sermon of the evening preceding. One began to ridi- 
cule a certain idea, and another something else, till the 
unanimous conclusion was that the whole thing was a well 
composed mistake. I know that I did not care to enter 
very deeply into the conversation. I found it very pleasant 
to wait upon customers, and in short backed quite out of 
the discussion. My friend was not quite so successful. He 
ventured to assert that one thing had been well and truly 
presented, and this only served to turn the laugh against 
him. By and by, however, they went away, and we had to 
shut the shop with the unpleasant conviction that we had 
been baffled. We were cowards and did not dare confess 
it ; we had not kept our resolutions. We, however, avoided 
each other that night. After about a week, some one in 
the house remarked that we were more serious than usual. 
We were jeered a little, and we both backed square out of 
all our resolves, and betook ourselves to jokes, in order to 
turn the conversation. 

" Next Sunday night we went to church, again and again 
we renewed our resolves, but again there was no trusting 
in God. We were ashamed of our sin, but there was no 
true loving of God, there was the same old pride in our 
hearts. We entered upon another week, and repeated a 
similar result. For many weeks we went on in this way, 
and then began our old reasonings, though from a different 
starting point. We could be good Christians, but at the 
same time live in our old sins. With this creed we went 
on in the old way, and, as might be easily imagined, the 
last state was worse than the first, but God was good to me, 
infinitely beyond what I deserved. The truth is, I was lead- 



20 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ing a very unnatural life, one which I abhorred, and made 
me abhor myself. 

" About this time a change came over the affairs of my 
employer, the nature of our business required me to be up 
very early in the morning, often long before dawn, and fre- 
quently on market days I got no breakfast till nine or ten 
o'clock. If I had gone early to bed at night, it would have 
been very well, but instead of this, I remained up till 
after midnight, eating and drinking. My sleep, what little 
I did get, was broken, and very naturally such a way of 
living began to tell perceptibly upon my constitution. One 
day I was taken very ill and had to go to bed ; next day I 
was worse, and so ill as to alarm the people and cause them 
to send word to my friends. In a day or two, however, I 
began to get better, and in a few days more was able to go 
home. I now had time to reflect. I saw I had been living 
in a way I did not approve; worst of all, I had forgotten 
my mother and sister and brothers. I found my mother 
had not spent my money at all, excepting that with which 
she had bought clothes for me. No present had ever been 
made to my little brother who still went to school. I had 
now been away two years, I had received two hundred 
dollars, of which more than one hundred now remained. 
The doctor's bill reduced this to somewhere about eighty. 
After a while I got well, and went back to my old place, 
but I was much changed. A better mind had gained the 
ascendency, I was now truly ashamed of myself, I grew 
silent and preferred to be alone. I very seriously thought 
of leaving such a place, but what to do, or where to go, I 
did not know; I began "to wish to leave the Island alto- 
gether, and not a vessel left the harbor, bound to the 
United States, on which I did not wish to be. Soon after 
this, I came near losing my life. It was our custom to 
spend Sunday in any way we pleased, and on one of those 
Sundays, when the wind was very high, we went out sail- 
ing alone in an open boat with iron ballast. When we 



LATER LIFE IN BERMUDA. 21 

reached the middle of the harbor, about a mile from shore, 
we found the wind so strong we could not manage the boat. 
Suddenly a puff struck her, and over we went, and we 
thought ourselves lost. The water poured in over the side, 
and though we had brought the boat ' to the wind,' we 
were not in the safest situation. The different ropes had 
got tangled, and we had some difficulty in getting in the 
sail. At length, however, we accomplished this, got the 
water bailed out, and then had to take to our oars. Greatly 
exhausted, we got home that evening, and that put an end 
forever to all Sunday excursions for me. It, however, had 
the effect of sobering me more than ever. The desire soon 
afterwards formed in my mind to go to New York, and 
though I had not a friend there and knew not a mortal in 
the city, I determined to go, if my mother would permit. 

" The next time I went home I made the proposition to 
my mother; as I expected, she would not think of it. I 
was young, inexperienced ; I knew nobody ; suppose I 
should get sick; and a variety of objections arose at once. 
I, however, could see no objections. I had read of young 
men going to seek their fortunes, I thought the thing was 
grand, and, in my own mind, had resolved to go. 1 rea- 
soned in this way : ' Nothing can be worse for me than the 
way in which I am now living; if I do not succeed in my 
hopes, I shall at least be no worse off; I have everything to 
gain, and nothing to lose.' 

" I went back on Monday morning, having asked my 
mother to think the matter over. I wrote to her about it, 
and, in the meantime, informed the man with whom I 
was living of my intention to leave him. Our bargain 
required two months' notice from either side. After four 
weeks I went home again, and succeeded in getting from 
my mother a qualified consent. 

" I now formed my plans ; my mother got all my clothes in 
readiness; everybody thought I was a foolish boy ; nobody 
thought I was wise except my old companion, and he wished 



22 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

from the bottom of his heart that he could go too. I took 
leave of the little town, and went home for a few weeks, 
preparatory to my anticipated move. I was at home three 
weeks ; my mother got everything ready with an exactness 
and consideration which only such a mother could exercise. 
They were not weeks of pleasure; poor mother was very 
sad, and I too felt anything but happy. It was now the 
month of May, perhaps the loveliest of all the year, in that, 
the loveliest of all climates. Roses abounded, the air was 
soft and genial, the breezes were low and gentle. I occa- 
sionally got a boat and went from island to island, or in and 
out among the islands, sometimes sailing, sometimes row- 
ing, sometimes fishing. The orange, the bananna, and cedar 
were in their richest green ; and though from my childhood 
I had been familiar with these scenes I could now feel they 
were lovely. Perhaps because I was going away, every- 
body felt an additional interest in me, and I in them. At 
length the time came, my passage was engaged, my trunk 
was packed, and the day was set. I felt it was a solemn 
time, and when at last the morning came, bright, warm 
and cheerful, when the birds were singing sweetly, when 
my trunk went out, and we all sat around a table from 
which none of us had eaten, while poor mother's heart was 
almost broken. I half resolved not to go ; but it was now 
too late, go I must ; and with a soul full of sadness, I bade 
them all good-bye. I left a home I was never but once 
more to see; left a mother I was to behold only in one 
short interval again ; left her to trials and sorrows greater 
even than any she had yet known ; left all to go where I 
was unknown and unfriended ; left a forbidding past to 
wander out upon a dark and unpromising future. Before 
night I had gazed for the first time upon an ocean view, 
unbroken, except by the line of the far horizon. 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 



We are now to follow Mr. Perinchief into a new world, 
and one of excitement and danger. 

" It is true," he continues, " that the ' boy is father of 
the man,' but little can be predicted of manhood from the 
surroundings of youth. I landed in Few York on the 8th 
day of June, 1847, in my eighteenth year. There was as 
passenger on the same vessel in which I came, my uncle, 
then a confirmed invalid, and seeking by all the means at 
his command, to lengthen out his life. Though my uncle, 
I was not under his protection. I was literally alone. I 
knew not a mortal in the whole extent of that city ; the 
agent of this relative came on board the vessel, and by his 
advice I went to the same boarding house with my uncle. 
I had never before been in a city, and of course everything 
struck me with all the force of entire novelty. The ship- 
ping along the wharves, the steamers plying the ferries, the 
tug-boats and river boats, the noise and seeming confusion, 
the beautiful green of the hills opposite the city, all quite 
absorbed my attention. Yet scarcely had I landed when 
the first object that made a fixed and definite impression on 
my mind, was a coffin borne by two men. I know the 
reflection instantly arose, ' here too, men die, amid all this 
life, and provision for life, is death.' Object after object 
hurried by. The crowds of people, the streams of vehicles, 
the continuous lines of omnibuses on Boadway, the city 
park with its fountains, the Astor House, Museum, and 
City Hall, all left me in anything but a clear understanding 
as to where I was, when at length I arrived at my boarding 
house on Beekman street. Nothing could content me in 



24 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

the house, and against all remonstrances, all predictions of 
my getting lost, out I went. 

" I remembered Beekman street and the church in it, 
and the number of my boarding house, and I trusted to my 
knowledge of the English language to find my way back 
again. Where I went I do not remember, I got back in 
time to find out that New York was very different from 
home, for when tea time was past, nothing more was to be 
had to eat. For several days this rage for sight-seeing con- 
tinued, but after the first day, I had found a companion. 
Of course I supposed all the world to be as honest as 
myself, which belief came very near costing me dearly. 

" My new 7 companion was a fellow-boarder and room- 
mate ; he was very kind, knew all about New York, espec- 
ially about the theatres and places which the virtuous do 
not frequent. I soon began to learn the value of money ; 
I had, after paying my passage, over sixty dollars. I told 
this fellow how much I had, and he knew what was not in 
my pocket must be in my trunk. One of the first things 
which struck me was the cheapness of everything. The idea 
of riding as far as I chose for six cents ! A good plate of 
oysters for a York shilling ! But I soon found that though 
everything was cheap, it at last took money away much 
faster than I had it to spend ; that with paying for myself 
and ' my friend f I had to go to my trunk very often. Sun- 
day, however, came and what with riding all day, going to 
the theater as night, and eating everything that came in my 
way, and sleeping little, I found myself in the morning very 
tired and nearly sick. I went to church, the sound of the old 
liturgy — a few alterations of course — carried my thoughts 
across the seas to the old home. I began to be a little home- 
sick, I knew my poor mother was thinking of me, and I 
felt that after all, New York may be a grand place, but it 
was a place of danger. I went home and wrote a letter to 
my mother. That evening I formed a resolution to go no 
more to the theatre ; fascinating as its scenes were, I felt 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 25 

they were in their effects anything but good for me. Wicked 
as I had been, I felt that this was wickedness refined ; I went 
to bed somewhat saddened. 

" On Monday morning as I was getting ready to go out, 
the idea struck me, what am I to do for clean clothes; just 
then, a woman knocked and reported herself as the washer- 
woman. For the first time in my life I counted out and 
made a list of clothes to be washed. When the woman 
went out I sat down on my trunk, and had one of the 
heartiest cries of my life. That trunk had been packed by 
my mother, it was now fairly unpacked, and as one little 
thing after another came out to tell me of her love and care, 
all my love for her came back to me. Not only so, but the 
idea pressed upon me that I had now no home. I was where 
money alone was of any account. Go only as far as you 
can pay, I thought, and roused myself at length to try 
and see what I could find to do. By the kindness of my 
uncle's agent, I found my way to the reading room of the 
Merchant's Exchange. I looked over the advertisements,, 
found nothing, and went back homesick to my room. My 
companion was there in bed reading. I found upon trial, I 
could not open my trunk, perceived clearly that somebody 
had been trying to break the lock. He took it all coolly,, 
said something about the dishonesty of servants, and how 
careful I ought to be. The idea never entered my head 
that he was a thief. That night my uncle proposed to me 
that as he was lonely, I should go to Saratoga with him, 
he defraying my expenses ; I agreed, and off we went. After 
about a week I began to think that my uncle's offer to pay 
my expenses with him, did not help me towards getting 
something to do for myself ; I told him so, and thanked him 
for his kindness and went back to New York. It was fortu- 
nate for me that I did so, I say fortunate, I mean God 
directed me. The very next morning, I went to the read- 
ing room, saw an advertisement, which I answered, and 
that night received a call from a gentleman who asked me 



26 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

to wait on him next morning. I did so, and the result was 
an engagement at $250 a year, as shipping elerk and assist- 
ant book-keeper in a wholesale crockery establishment. 
On going home one evening I found the landlady in a great 
state of excitement at the loss of some money from her own 
desk in her bed-room. Some circumstances had caused 
her to suspect this room-mate of mine, and when I told her 
my experience she concluded to have him arrested, but on 
looking about to find him, discovered that he had absconded. 
Fortunately for me he had not succeeded in opening my 
trunk, and fortunately again I was relieved of his company. 
All this experience caused me to form another resolution, 
somewhat rash perhaps, but an adherence to which had a 
great influence upon my future destiny, this was, to admit 
nobody to my acquaintance until I had some reason to 
believe it would be an advantage to me. 

" For many weeks I was absorbed in my new duties. I 
was engaged all day. This new resolution kept me much 
by myself in the evening. Although there were many 
ladies and gentlemen in the house, I could add nothing to 
their society. I had no money ; what I brought with me 
soon evaporated, and what I worked for just paid my board 
and found me necessary clothes. Hardly that, for my uncle 
I think, at the solicitation of his agent, who had taken a 
kindly interest in me, gave me some warm winter clothing. 
I used to loiter much about the streets in the evening, 
making observations here and there, chiefly, however, to 
get away from home, for I had no books, I had no room to 
myself, I had no friend. The evenings in the parlor were 
spent in playing cards, with music and dancing. 

" I have said I was little there, yet necessarily I had 
sometimes to be there, and had become a great adept at the 
game of draughts. As the winter came on I could not walk 
so much in the evening. This set me to looking about for 
free lecture rooms and all places of entertainment to which 
I could go without that almost inevitable " quarter." 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 27 

" I used to look very wistfully at the * Mercantile Library ' 
rooms, and other similar places, but they were closed to 
me ; the Cooper Institute and many other free institutions 
of the city did not exist. 

"Being so much alone I used to think incessantly. It 
delighted me to go along the street in a ' brown study ;' 
I entered upon subjects that were too high for me. I 
listened to lectures and sermons like a philosopher, I used 
to think, even then, some men were not over wise. I 
thought much about the object of life. What object was 
the highest and best ? What was becoming to an immortal 
being ? At first I had no idea but that of being rich ; I 
longed for money, chiefly that I might take care of my 
mother and sister at home, but also that I might be a power 
in the world. I saw the influence of money, and craved 
that influence. 

" I believe my employer was as honest as the generality 
of men in trade. I began to question the virtue of the 
means to the end, at length to question the desirableness of 
even the end itself. Although much of the city was so 
grand, I saw also a great deal of vice and real wretchedness. 
I questioned whether the pursuit of the grand did not, of 
itself, promote this very wretchedness, just as forcing the 
air through a tube condenses it at one end but produces a 
vacuum on the other. I feel thankful now, in looking back 
upon my life, that I have clone the best I could. When I 
worked for another, I did so as if it were for my own 
interests. Even amid my daily duties, serious reflections 
sometimes pressed home upon me. My whole life was one 
of thought. In a great city I was wholly alone. The clerks 
in the store were all older, and there was little sympathy 
between us. For a long time I was in a very unsettled 
state of mind, I went over my reasonings again and again ; 
I listened to lectures and sermons, many of them amount- 
ing to nothing, many of them I could not understand. In 
the mean time I read everything that came in my w r ay. I 



28 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

secured an old copy of Comstock's Philosophy, and to my 
surprise found it very interesting. During the dull season 
of business I carried it to the store. I never shall forget 
the surprise depicted on the countenance of my employer 
on once taking up the book when he thought I was not 
near him. 

" I read the Bible very much, a Bible my sister had pur- 
chased, because it was sold cheap by a Methodist missionary, 
and which she had presented to me when I left home. I 
still, however, kept up a correspondence with my old friend 
in Bermuda. About this time he sent to me to procure a 
copy of Tom Paine's " Age of Reason." Before sending 
it to him I read it myself, and the effect on me was good, 
for I remember to have thought it a very silly affair. I 
could not conceive how a man should be so foolish as to 
write such a book. I could account for it only upon the 
principle ' Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make 
mad.' I sent it, however, and with it a letter, the exact 
tenor of which I do not now remember, but it caused quite 
a damper upon our correspondence. 

" The truth is, already a great change had passed upon 
me. M} 7 friend and I were two very different beings. Our 
former affinities had passed away. Though I was not } 7 et 
anew man, I was in many respects a changed man. By 
this time the first year of my city life had revolved to the 
Lenten season. To one of the extra services held by Dr. 
Stephen H. Tyng in old St. George's, I went one evening- 
The discourses upon these occasions, were more simple, 
less upon the scale of human eloquence and greatness, than 
his Sunday sermons, and I found them attractive. 

" At length one night he touched upon the subject of 
prayer ; I felt that prayer was what I needed. I had long 
been thinking of mental and spiritual good, but I had not 
exactly thought of God and the Saviour. Much as I had 
said my prayers, I really had never prayed. The idea of 
communing with God, pouring out my soul to Him, entreat- 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 29 

ing His help, and the light of His Spirit, at first quite 
shocked me. Yet all the while I found myself drawn 
towards the duty and privilege. If I mistake not, my first 
prayer was uttered in the street. While I was running 
about with bank notes and bills of lading, my mind was on 
things in their nature infinitely different. At length, one 
nignt I kneeled down, and though in great fear and tremb- 
ling, I prayed; God heard me, how long I prayed I do not 
know, I only know when I ceased I was exhausted, but I 
was a new man in Christ Jesus. I had found the pearl of 
great price. Now, not only was I a new creature, but every- 
thing was new to me. The Bible, the world, my duties, my 
hopes were all new. To me, success in business upon any 
plan of this world, was from that hour an impossibility. I 
longed only for an utter and eternal consecration to God. 
I thought only of being useful to my fellow-men, and of 
glorifying the Saviour. No soul had I to confide in, even 
to my mother I could not write it, though from my letters 
she perceived some change had come over me. Of a morn- 
ing now, I was frequently late at the store, because prayer to 
me had become so much of a delight, I was in it quite 
unconscious of any lapse of time. Blissful now were all 
my days, even in crucifying the flesh, with its evil and cor- 
rupt affections, I found only joy and peace. A feeling of 
unutterable unworthiness had seized me and yet I felt 
myself' a child of God. Night after night did I pore over 
my Bible. In my own mind, and in the margin I had made 
a sort of concordance, for my Bible was not a reference 
Bible, nor did I know there was such a book in existence 
as a concordance. Even along the street I seemed to be 
with Christ, for all day long would His words linger with 
me, and even to this day, I cannot pass through those streets 
without remembering that to me they w T ere the gate of 
heaven ; but I had great foes to encounter, and desperate 
sometimes were my struggles. God w T as good to me and I 



30 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

was girded with a Saviour's strength, even earlier than I 
found it, and in a degree sweeter and more powerful. 

" During that summer I joined the Sunday school of old 
St George's as a teacher. I had a class of seven little boys 
and I believe, by God's blessing, I did them good. I know 
I derived good from them. I thought much of them, and 
prayed much for them, and they gave me their attention 
through the entire hour. One of the little fellows once 
came to me, with a very doleful countenance, to confess 
some fault, or disobedience to his mother ; he grieved much 
about it, said he tried to help it, and wanted to know if 
God would forgive him. I was very much pleased with 
this instance of an impression made upon his young heart. 
Another little boy grieved for several weeks because his 
parents were to move up town, and he would not be able to 
come back to Sunday school. Since I left that school, I 
have never seen one of those children, nor do I know what 
one of them turned out to be; but they used to listen to 
me too attentively for every thing to have been lost. I was 
myself intensely in earnest, I did not think of it 'at the time, 
but from the way some of the teachers used to look at me, 
and from the questions they sometimes asked me, I am 
reminded of it now. Indeed, I thank God I have always 
been in earnest, my only grief now being that the soul 
within me has consumed the body without, and now I faint, 
where once I would only have been beginning. 

"During that summer too, I was confirmed by Bishop 
Potter, of Pennsylvania, the Bishop of New York being 
then suspended ; I partook of my first communion in St. 
George's church at the hand of Dr. Tyng, with whom, and 
that old church in Beekman street, are connected many of 
my most precious memories. 

" In this way my acquaintance to some extent was en- 
larged. I found a member of the same church at my new 
boarding place. He, however, had many friends in town, 
and so was seldom at home. There were many more young 



' MERCANTILE- EXPERIENCES. 31 

men at this boarding house, but I had very little to do with 
them as they appeared to me a very wild set, and they gave 
me up as a strange and hopeless case. Yet I remember 
well how wise they assumed to be. The man who owned 
the house was a merchant, and worth $150,000. His 
children were all grown, and he was contemplating a visit 
to Europe and a removal up town. He had in consequence 
rented this house, and himself and family only boarded. 
He was of course in that house an oracle. It so happened 
that the Astronomer, Mitchell, the Federal General in the 
recent civil war, at that time a young man and quite 
unknown, was a boarder too. He was then pursuing those 
studies which made him subsequently known. He used to 
get up at all hours of the night and go upon the housetop 
to observe the heavenly bodies. One Sunday afternoon all 
were in the parlor. Some question arose about the French 
revolution, at that time the universal talk. Poor Mitchell 
made a remark and Oracle called it in question ; Mitchell 
was laughed at, and Oracle was applauded. At length 
Mitchell made a proposition which to him and to any man 
who had an understanding, was self-evident. The truth of 
it could not be seen, and poor Mitchell struggling hard to 
maintain his equanimity, was completely overrun. When 
at length he left the room, he was unanimously voted a fool. 
I sat by, a silent spectator, but I could not help thinking 
how completely that scene was the whole world upon a 
small scale. How have the virtuous and wise of all ages 
been trodden down by ignorance and folly. When gold 
and jewels sink, straws and bubbles float. But the wise 
and good win at the last. The Oracle had his way, and in 
about a year from that he died. What became of his family, 
I do not know. Two of those boarders I saw on a steam- 
boat in the Sound, several years afterwards. They did not 
recognize me, but were running about the boat, in a con- 
spicuous and annoying manner, the same bubbles they ever 
were. Mitchell in the mean time had been going his way 



32 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

and was now fast emerging from obscurity. He was known 
as an astronomical discoverer and a lecturer of great ability. 
More recently he has given proof of being an able general, 
and died in the service of his country. 

" By this time the spring of 1849 had come, and with it 
I had reached a degree of impatience with my present pur- 
suit which I could hardly restrain. A something urged 
me to devote my life wholly and exclusively to the spread 
of the Gospel. I thought first of becoming a colporteur. 
I knew I was ignorant, but I thought I could carry Bibles 
and tracts to out of the way places. I went one day to the 
rooms of the Tract Society to make inquiries about colpor- 
teuring. Nobody was there but a clerk, I had nobody 
to introduce me, and I was very awkward at introducing 
myself. I could not, from my extreme shyness, clearly 
explain what I wanted. The young man did not act very 
gentlemanly, I suppose owing to my peculiar manners. I 
know. I went away considerably disappointed. That was 
the first shock my converted soul had met. Up to this time 
and for some time afterwards, I supposed every soul of the 
outwardly Christian man, had experiences just like my own. 
I used to rejoice in the thought of that fullness of joy which 
went up constantly to God, as incense from believing 
hearts, albeit they were yet here in a world of sin, a world 
in which that incense was unseen. I have lived, alas ! to 
find out that there is much even in the so-called Christian, 
which deceives, though thank God, I have lived to know 
that from the altar of many hearts a real incense does go 
up, and that in those hearts God truly rules. Where He 
rules, there is real love, and joy, and peace, such as he only 
who feels it knows. I could not rally courage enough to 
go back to that Tract Society room, though I tried long and 
hard ; I could not give up the idea of colporteuring, for it 
was the only means left to me, by which to devote my life 
exclusively to the service of the Saviour. I was very much 
worried. I had no friend to advise me, no experience or 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 33 

knowledge of my own from which to draw direction. The 
idea of my ever entering the ministry seemed to me pre- 
sumptuous. During the summer I had more than usual 
leisure. It was the summer in which cholera raged so fear- 
fully in New York, everybody had gone out of the city who 
could go. My employer and all the other clerks were gone, 
and I was left in charge, with the porter. Nobody came to 
buy goods, and except a little custom-house business, re- 
ceiving goods which arrived from England, I had nothing to 
do. I read and thought as usual, but only became the more 
perplexed. One evening on going home to tea, I found at 
the table a new boarder ; I was introduced to him as the 

Rev. Mr. , and was informed that for a few days he 

would be my room-mate. He was awaiting in the city the 
departure of a vessel which was to carry him to North 
Carolina, where he intended to enter upon his ministry. 
Now, I thought, surely there is a providence in this, and so 
there w T as, though not exactly as I had hoped, as we shall 
hereafter see. I looked up to him as a superior being, I en- 
vied him his privileges, I thought if I could only be in his 
place ! I expected from him some sympathy, some advice — 
expected impossible things. I had a little while before been 
present at a meeting for prayer and conversation in which a 
man arose and confessed his faith in the Saviour. While he 
was speaking and telling of his hopes, I could scarcely re- 
strain myself for joy. I had to go and talk with him after- 
wards, and looking as he did like a poor man, I could not rest 
till I knew whether he had the Bible he wanted, or whether 
there was anything I could do to help him on his way to 
heaven. I expected a similar interest in me from this rev- 
erend gentleman, but to my utter disappointment he only 
looked at me as if he thought me unduly excited. Not a 
single echo beyond this broke upon my soul. I could not 
help thinking what a strange Christian minister this is. 
Yet, I thought, it is my awkwardness and shyness, the man 
cannot break through that. Still I was left in the same 



34 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

uncertainty and disquietude. One day, however, after hav~ 
ing pondered all the morning upon the subject, I went home 
to my room, and made it a special subject of prayer. I 
remember now my chief petition was that God would 
use me for His glory. I entreated that He would drive 
me into that course which He desired me to follow. I can 
never forget that day nor that prayer. It was now getting 
late in summer, and the cholera began to abate. Merchants 
came home to make preparation for the fall trade. Along 
with our book-keeper came his younger brother, and not a 
week had gone before I saw that my place was intended 
for him. Nothing was said to me, but I saw that just as 
soon as this young man had learned all about the business 
that I could teach him, I should be told I was not wanted. 
However, I had grace to teach him all I could, most 
cheerfully, though some of the clerks said " what a fool 
you are," for they did not like the book-keeper, nor the way 
I was treated. But, my children, never fail to do what is 
right. Never allow a single animosity to grow in your hearts. 
Be the causes for it what they may, never let Satan prevail. 
Have hearts only full of love. Let it overflow only with 
love, and by no possibility can you lose the reward God has 
for you. That reward will come when those who have 
injured you have been forgotten or have repented. It may 
be they will know nothing about it, but come it will. I 
thought at the time, God is hearing my prayer. All is 
right. One day I happened to think that possibly not 
all the money which my father had belonging to us, was 
swallowed up. By the English law, a part of the property 
my deceased sister died possessed of, came to us. My 
father should have had it ready for us as we came of age ; 
I feared it was all gone, I thought, however, I would make 
a trial. I wrote to my father, and to my surprise I found 
he could send me $200. Whether this was my money or 
not, I never knew. I applied myself at once to find out 
where a good cheap school could be found. Through a 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 35 

gentleman at my boarding house, I learned of one at Ame- 
nia, in Duchess county, New York, near Poughkeepsie, 
where I thought I could get at least one year's schooling for 
$200. I wrote immediately for the money. I gave my 
employer notice of my intention to leave him, and made my 
preparations accordingly. "When I spoke of leaving I could 
see that the proposition was a relief to all. When I told 
him where I was going, he and all shook their heads. I 
never told how much money I had, nor did I say what my 
ultimate intentions were. Indeed I hardly had any inten- 
tions. Everything was very indefinite. I thought the 
schooling would do me good, and make me better prepared 
for the work of a colporteur. But, all in that store were of 
the earth, earthy. Not one of them had an idea beyond 
money, so that spending my money as I proposed, they 
thought I was likely to come to nothing. The truth is, 
they had no conception of the value of knowledge. They 
could perceive nothing of spiritual things. They could not 
see that even one pearl of thought was worth more than 
$200. To such men, learning is valuable only so far as it 
procures a man a living. Any profession is estimated 
according to the income it procures. If they are thus with 
respect to earthly things, what must they be in heavenly 
things. It is a sad reflection, that millions of the human 
species never have the first true conception of religion. 
They perceive not even in the dimmest outlines, the glory 
of the spiritual. They are called men, but are really only 
as the beasts which perish. 

" In process of time, my money came, and at the opening 
of the fall term I was enrolled among the students of 
Amenia Seminary. I believe the day I left New York, I 
was the happiest being in the world. Many things con- 
spired to make me happy. I had not been out of New 
York for more than two years. The sight of the trees, the 
brooks, the fields, the mountains and the birds, sent a thrill 
of joy to my soul. The very noise of the crickets and 



36 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

katy-dids at night to me was delightful. Then the fruition 
of a great hope was beginning. I was thus far along 
toward a consummation, the prospect of which filled every 
throb of my heart. I must not forget however, that by the 
time I left E~ew York my $200 had already dwindled down 
to $175. A few months previously there had come to my 
boarding house, as a boarder, a gentleman who was a music- 
teacher. He was a pious man, very much of an invalid, 
and in consequence of this, barely able to support himself. 
He took from the first, some interest in me, and I believe 
in some respects his acquaintance was an advantage. 
He found out I had this money, and immediately wanted 
a suit of clothes, towards the getting of which I lent him 
$25, and that was the last of it. I know he intended to pay 
me, but I suppose misfortune prevented. He never was 
able. I never saw him again though we corresponded for 
two or three years. Thus with $175 I set out to be a stu- 
dent. 

" Now, my dear children, before I pass to another chap- 
ter, I must pause for a moment here. First of all, to utter 
a caution. You see me under the power of a quenchless 
impulse going out scarcely knowing whither I went. If I 
tell you I went in faith you will readily believe it, though 
you will hardly understand what that expression means. I 
trust the rehearsal of the future will open to you my mean- 
ing. And while I would have you in all your ways 
acknowledge God^ and in all things lean only upon Him, 
not simply say you do, but actually do it. I would not have 
you do anything which is rash or generally unreasonable. 
God governs no two souls alike, and what was right perhaps 
for me to do from impulse, might be right for you to do 
only under clearest demonstration. To me impulse was 
demonstration. I had lived for two years with my own 
heart and with God. I cannot explain to you .all the ele- 
ments which made up my impulse. I can only say, as a 
general rule, it is wiser to act under the influence of other 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 37 

elements of life, such, for example, as the advice of friends. 
In my case I had no friends, or if I had, they were beyond 
my reach. If, in the light of God's word and communion 
with His spirit, you will think intensely for two years on any 
step, then I shall not fear any rashness. If you at any time 
think of my acting from impulse, as your example, I wish 
you to think also of those two years of patient study. I 
believed then, and whatever it may appear to you or others, 
the providence of God toward me has since confirmed my 
belief that this impulse of which I have spoken was the 
divine voice calling me to the ministry. I longed to be the 
instrument of saving one soul. God told me to go, 1 obeyed 
and went. 

" Though I have lived in ISTew York city since, and under 
circumstances different from any under which you have thus 
far seen me, and so shall have to refer to city life again, 
yet here, now that I think of it, let me express the hope 
that you will never go to New York or any other large city 
to live. All city life from necessity is artificial, and how- 
ever pleasing it may be, is unnatural. A wax bouquet if 
executed with nice art, will often attract more attention than 
the loveliest rose. A well-executed statue will be more 
admired than a real human being. That is, there will be 
more talk about it, and you would think that one could 
desire all the world to be wax bouquets, and stone statues. 
But city life is to real life, or proper country life, what 
a wax flower is to a real lily, or a stone statue to the real 
man, the divine work of God. I do not say that all country 
life is wise or beautiful or in any way worthy of man, or at 
all superior to common city life. Many unwise live in the 
country, but I am supposing a being with a real soul. In 
the city all is of man — nothing is of God. You can know a 
flower only as you also think of money, you must buy it. 
The very cattle coming in to be slaughtered, come with 
foam at their, mouths, and their eyes staring out of their 
heads. The chickens are all dead and picked, the hares are 



'38 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

hung up by the feet. You can frolic and parade, and dress : 
provided, and it is this, * provided ' which sinks millions of 
souls into folly and crime ; the one struggle is how to live. 
Much time is spent in simply trying to kill time, the great 
fear is that some hour will be filled with ennui. There is 
no opportunity for deep, patient, far-reaching culture. 
Everywhere is only flimsy sentimentality and brazen vacuity; 
untold things are contrived simply because the contrivers 
must live, and partly because they have nothing else to do 
but contrive. Thus, untold wants are created ; the rich are 
able to get what distinguishes them certainly, but what 
makes them no happier in getting; and the poorer are left 
wretched, because they are not able to get. All life is a 
useless race, and meaningless rivalry. They talk about the 
comforts of city life, their having this thing and that, but 
look a little at all their belongings. See what they cost ; 
see the struggle to get them and then to keep them ; what 
they amount to when they have them. 

" Thus there is misery at both ends of life, and thus you 
have city life, all unnatural, a banishment of truth, the 
substitutes of a great lie, and this lie permeates and cor- 
rodes imperceptibly all truth. Familiarity with folly makes 
men fools, and city men are often as much men as stuffed 
lions are lions. Even modesty, which I believe natural to 
woman, from various contingencies, declines, and a lady 
will expose herself without a blush, when an angel would 
sink into the earth for shame. 

" In the country all is of God, except that which is 
imported from town. Nature everywhere spreads out in 
sweetest revealings for all who have ears to hear. The bees 
that hum and the birds that sing all have a melody for the 
soul. The breeze that lingers amid the vines which curl 
at your doorway bring incense to man. The cattle upon 
the hills, the ploughman in the fields, and the little hut 
reposing in the shadow of the trees, tell us of God's good- 
ness in giving much, while man really needs so little. From 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 39 

the brooks that murmur over the pebbles, up to the hills 
that stand so still and so solemn, and thence up to the orbs 
that roll in space, there is one voice speaking at once of 
earth and heaven, joining time and eternity, sending the 
soul inwardly to commune with itself, and longingly upward 
to have fellowship with the great spirit of all love and 
goodness and truth. I do not say in the country you cannot 
be clownish and insensible to the heavenly voices whispering 
around you, but I say; if you are, it is your fault, not your 
misfortune. If you are a clod there, it is because you are 
not fit for a universe of thought and soul. The thought 
might suggest itself that all books come from the city, but 
remember, they are not written there. No inspiration 
comes from cobble-stones ranged in file, and human forms 
turned into clothes-horses — there may be exceptions, but 
this is the rule. They can work in cities, they must work, 
and every book that is sent you, or every book you buy, 
sends to some hand a pittance which helps to eke out a 
friendless and joyless life. You may reflect that some of 
the most cultivated people you ever saw came from cities ; 
so they did, but who were their fathers before them, or 
where were they born ; and what have been their surround- 
ings and belongings ? You will find it is because they are 
really not city people, that they are the best ; their parents 
were people of culture, they spend the greater part of their 
life away from the city, and have travelled extensively, or 
even when in the city they are still above it. The sweetest 
and holiest characters I have known were resident in the 
city, but they were sweetest and holiest because they were 
anything but conformed to their surroundings, and their 
early culture was not a city culture. All extremes are bad, 
"but for that culture, the riches of which survive the grave, 
I would rather choose the wilderness than the city. The 
point equally distant from both, is the happy middle for 
man. Now, I do not say that from this you are to affect to 
despise what you know nothing about ; it may not be your 



40 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

privilege to choose a residence in life, but wherever your lot 
is cast, try to avoid its dangers on the one hand, and avail 
yourself of its facilities on the other. Remember it adds 
nothing to your joys to disparage those of others. If other 
people are happier and better off than you, rejoice in it, at 
the same time find out the sweetness of your own cup and 
be thankful. Whatever your lot, never be sighing and 
wishing for another. If you are worthy of another, God 
will give it to you, and no worthiness can be derived from 
constant dissatisfaction aud repining. Never allow that 
thought, which is working at the basis of all society, to 
deceive you — the thought that eminence is excellence. 

" I do not say that if you should state this proposition 
philosophically, men would admit it, still it acts the more 
powerfully for all that, and will comfort you at every turn 
of your life. The struggle to appear to be, is killing count- 
less multitudes. Your friends will applaud you when you 
make a show, and they would rather have you with half 
your virtue in some prominent place, than with twice that 
virtue in obscurity. David says, ' When thou doest well to 
thyself,' that is, what the world calls well — ' men will speak 
well of thee.' Strive after holiness, search for wisdom as 
for hid treasure, and when you think you have found it — if 
you ever should — try rather to hide it than to expose it. 
Give yourself to God, He ever sees you; live for your 
fellow-men in all long suffering and labors of love. Never 
abuse the world. Eat the manna God gives you, and drink 
rejoicingly from the fountain of salvation. A saved soul will 
see much in the world to avoid, much to mourn over, much 
to do for the Saviour's sake, but it will have no time to 
grumble. Angels never grumble — they execute their mis- 
sions of love, and go on their way in joy. The Saviour 
held up a light for them that were in darkness. In that 
light, out of a world that is evil, many have been saved. 
Rejoice in that light, be like the Saviour. I have no greater 
longing for you than this, for this my prayers constantly go 



MERCANTILE EXPERIENCES. 41 

up, that you may know the only true God and Jesus Christ 
whom he has sent. If your soul can only be filled w T ith the 
fullness of this knowledge, then your life, wherever it may 
be spent, shall be a life of joy for you, and of blessing for 
many. 

" One other little thought in passing. I have spoken of a 
Bible my sister gave me ; that Bible was the greatest trea- 
sure I ever had. Never lose a chance for a little kind act 
of this sort. If you have only a little money, spend a little 
now and then in spreading the Word of God. If you have 
much, how blessed then to spend in many ways for Jesus 
sake. Devote your life, all you have to the cross — your 
works will follow you." 



AMENTA SEMINARY. 



We have now to enter upon a new sphere, to see a true 
man struggling against the ills of adversity : 

" Isow commences my life of trial. Much humiliation 
seems necessary before I can know the fullness of a Saviour's 
strength. Up to this time, although I had been exposed to 
many temptations, yet I had known but few real trials. Out 
of a wilderness, I was to long for God. My own wisdom 
and strength are to be proved worthless, and divine grace 
alone is to triumph. 

" When I left lew York I was very healthy, as my duties 
there were well calculated to keep my body in tone. I 
never thought of health, nor supposed I could break down. 
When I reached the Seminary in Amenia, I found it a 
larger establishment than I had expected. It consisted of 
three large buildings, very pleasantly situated, and con- 
tained nearly 300 students, male and female, about equal in 
number. The year consisted of three terms, and the 
charges per term were $30 for board, $10 for tuition, with 
fuel, lights, and washing, extra. Of course upon such 
prices nothing very grand could be afforded. My room was 
very small, and furniture all of the most common kind, 
still, I should have been pleased with anything. I was a 
little surprised, in a day or two, to find that my room, small 
as it was, had been designed for two, and I was expected to 
take a " chum." This was a decided damper to my feel- 
ings. For various reasons I did not wish a room-mate, and 
protested loudly against it, and was, in consequence, told 
that I might, for a time, room alone. It took me some 
time get used to the fare, but in everything pertaining 



44 OCTAYIUS PEBINCHIEF. 

to study, the school was excellent. There were plenty of 
teachers, and all, without exception, good. The recitation 
rooms were large and comfortable, and they gave us the 
chapel for all "society" purposes, debates, &c. I went 
into study with my whole soul, and divided my days into 
regular portions, allotting only eight hours, I think, to 
recreation and sleep. I attended to every duty religiously, 
I studied on Saturdays as well as other days, and had a 
book ready for every spare moment. I mingled at first 
very little with the students, I think they thought me a 
queer genius. I had begun at the very beginning of every- 
thing; Latin, Greek, Chemistry, English Composition, and 
Algebra. I troubled myself very little about school 
requirements, and did not know for a whole term that a 
daily record was kept of the performances of each student. 
I thought only that time was flying, and with it my $175. 
I wished to get all I could for that money. About the 
middle of the first term I left my Latin class, and went into 
another more advanced. At the end of that term I also 
left this, and went into the Virgil class. It was a delight 
to me to study. I composed while I was walking, and 
then, when I went to my room, wrote my compositions. I 
was active in all debates, timid as I was, and found out by 
degrees that I had the reputation of being the best talker 
in school. To my great surprise at the end of the term, 
when all our merits and demerits were read off, to the 
whole school assembled in the chapel, I found I stood the 
highest for scholarship and good conduct. It took me so 
much by surprise, that I could not conceal my blushes. I 
had been so much in the habit of acting from principle, 
and of being a law to myself, that I had never dreamed of 
any other motive for action. I began to see that I had 
gained something by my two years in "New York, nor have 
I ever ceased to thank God for those two years. A sad 
disappointment, however, Avas now added to my experience,. 
of which I had not thought. Before going to school, I 



AMENIA SEMINARY. 45 

spent much time over my .Bible, and on my knees whole 
evenings were spent in prayer, and meditation ; so secluded 
was my life, without interruption, my whole soul seemed 
absorbed in religion. Now at school I could not well con- 
trol my time. The demands of school regulations, and the 
greater demands made by the liberties of students, broke 
up all my plans. We had to rise very early to attend 
prayers in the chapel : immediately after prayers we went 
to breakfast, and by this time in winter it was still dark. 
My room had to be arranged, the ashes taken up, and then 
a little walk. If, upon returning, I spent my usual time in 
prayer and meditation, it was recitation hour before I had 
a chance to prepare the lesson, and thus my devotions were 
shortened in the morning. I studied very late at night, 
sometimes till two or three o'clock, and by this time I felt 
weary ; in consequence, I determined to devote the hour 
about dusk to prayer. At first, this afforded me great 
gratification, but when I had become more extensively 
acquainted with the students, I was subject to frequent 
interruptions, for among them this is the very time, and 
almost the only time, for friendly intercourse. At this 
hour, too, a prayer meeting was proposed, and I did not 
like to be absent from that; for students, other than those 
professing religion, often attended, and I believed some 
good might be done by my presence. Many of the stu- 
dents already regarded me as a very queer fellow, and 
somehow, though I could resist the ungodly youth of New 
York, I could not face the prospect of an unpopularity at 
school. I cannot help thinking how foolish I was at this 
time, and what my folly cost me. Plainly, I should have 
maintained my former individuality, odd or not odd. I 
should have kept my door closed, and have allowed them 
to think I was selfish if they chose ; instead of that, how- 
ever, I opened my door, and whole hours went in talk, 
which should have been spent in prayer and sweet commu- 
nion with myself and God. Indeed, this was not the only 



46 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

way in which I was foolish, for I compromised my own self 
respect by following the customs of others. I was guilty 
of so many weaknesses, I dare hardly go over them in my 
own mind. Yet, I have since not doubted that God was 
w x ith me, he was teaching me in this way, what it falls to 
the lot of many to learn through the advice and care of 
parents and friends. My life had been too secluded, and if 
I was ever to occupy a public position, which was then only 
known to God, I needed to know more of the world and 
mankind, and especially I needed to know more of myself. 
On the ocean-life of New York, with only the storm-winds 
of sin to contend with, I was comparatively safe, but in the 
milder waters, with rocks all around me, I was an unskillful 
navigator. God, however, was with me, and in His own 
good time rescued me. My varied experience often caused 
me to reflect that no dangers or trials to which a Christian 
is subject are greater than those incident to school or 
college life. As a result, many of those unspeakable joys 
of prayer were prospectively and actually decreasing. It 
seemed as if the very visible heavens closed in around me. 
No longer did my thoughts dwell beyond the clouds. In 
my walks I would entreat God to have mercy upon me, 
and cause, as formerly, the light of his countenance to shine 
upon me. Nothing, my dear children, nothing can ever 
make up to you the loss of prayer. If I can impress only 
this thought upon you, my labor shall not be in vain. 
Long, sweet communion with God, is the highest and purest 
joy this earth has ever seen. Never have I come back, 
except at intervals, to those blessed hours which I enjoyed 
before I was a student. The guiding star of my life, has 
been an unilickering trust in a certain providence. My 
aim has been to choose nothing in life, but what God was 
pleased to give, satisfied that what he gave not, I wanted 
not, and what he sent was just what I needed, and that 
which was in every wa} 7 best for me ; but the craving I 
have had for solitude and retirement was not that I should 



AMENIA SEMINARY. 47 

have nothing to do, but that in a quiet way I could tell of 
God, having in that way learned of Him. 

" If such were my experiences for one term, what might 
be expected of a second, especially now, when added to my 
other trials, the greatest of all, I had an ungodly room-mate. 
I wish not to dwell too much any where, or to tire you with 
the rehearsal of little things, though these little things are, 
when viewed in their combinations often most instructive. 
I went on in the same old way of study, worked early 
and late, frequently sat up at night, till my room-mate got 
up in the morning, for he went to bed very early, and was 
up very early. I pressed ahead of my classes. In every- 
thing I excelled, excepting in Greek. In this, though I 
went ahead of the class in which I started, I did not come 
up to my aim. Debating societies were all attended 
to, I never hesitated to speak when called upon, and 
never failed to prepare when regularly appointed. One 
difficulty I have always found, and I began to observe it 
then, that of never being able to do much, when much was 
expected. If ever I have tried to please people I have 
always failed, failed ignominiously. I never could declaim, 
and this was the only duty from whieh-I begged off*. There 
was always about it such a hollowness and unreal ty, it 
looked to me like the climax of silliness. I was satisfied 
I could never learn in that way the art of elocution. I 
have always contended the heart alone could make a 
preacher, and that in whatever way the real soul manifests 
itself, that manifestation would be eloquence. To talk of 
manufacturing grace and eloquence by the study of elocu- 
tion is quite as idle to my mind as to talk of doing so by 
the study of theatricals. Nothing but soul can affect soul. 
I may be affected by what is not felt, but I must believe it 
is felt ; make-believe cannot succeed long in any art, it soon 
discloses its emptiness. However, be all this as it may, I 
had an extreme disgust for all declamation, and never got 
over it, not even in college. I, however, wrote much, all 



48 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

sorts of compositions and letters. Toward the end of the 
second term I was caught in a very unlucky scrape. Our 
fare at the table had for some time been very bad, in fact 
not wholesome. One day, after a very poor dinner, some- 
body proposed that we should hold an indignation meeting. 
The idea took instantly, and in a few moments the chapel 
was full. A chairman was appointed ; speech after speech 
was made, and among the rest, I made a very inflammatory 
attack against the steward, and urged resolutions of remon- 
strance. The truth is, it mattered very little to me, what 
we had to eat, for I often ate no dinner at all, nor had I 
one thought against the steward or any other man. In 
reality, I did not think this meeting anything more than 
sport, but I found it was becoming a real thing, and I had 
helped to make it so. The meeting broke up to meet again 
next day, to hear the report of the committee who were to 
carry the resolutions to the principal and steward ; in the 
meantime our speeches had been heard by the latter, a 
very worthy man, and also by the ladies, for their building 
was near our chapel. They did not take our side, and that 
afternoon, being in the office, who should come in but the 
steward with some ladies. By a rule of the school the 
ladies and gentlemen were not allowed to converse, or even 
to speak to each other, excepting by special permission. 
They, however, began to accuse me of various inconsisten- 
cies, and among other things, of pretending to be a friend 
of the steward, while really I was his enemy. ^ At this period 
of my life, as I have said, I was exceedingly bashful in the 
presence of ladies. For the time being I was confused, 
and stammered out a denial of everything. This aggra- 
vated some of the students present, because it looked as if 
I were deserting them, and unwilling to face the opinion I 
had once asserted. The fact is, there was right and wrong 
on both sides ; I had been unjust to the steward, and I had 
not been altogether in earnest at the meeting. How to get 
out of it now, I saw not ; and the truth was, a little blight 



AMENIA SEMINARY. 49 

had been left on my character, viewed from either side. I 
mention this to show you how important it is to be on your 
guard against surprises, and being drawn into difficulties by 
others. How important it is to define yourself at every 
step ; to know where you are, and what you are doing. In 
any such case the best way is to be perfectly frank, and 
confess yourself wrong if you feel guilty. 

" This mingling of both sexes at seminaries I do not 
approve. At village schools it may do very well, but when 
boys and girls are sent away from home, every circumstance 
is unfavorable enough, where there is only one sex, but the 
disadvantages multiply where the two sexes mingle. Great 
numbers of our students spent much time in planning 
meetings with the ladies. Many of us did very foolish 
things which we would never have thought of had they not 
been there. Their presence did not make us more manly, 
but more effeminate. I had as little to do with them as 
anyone, but I am certain they did me no good. From my 
observation of those who had much to do with them, I 
could mention many evils which occurred, nor can I balance 
these evils with the memory of any good. If we could 
mingle as ladies and gentlemen in society, everything would 
be different, but this, in the very nature of a school is im- 
possible. Time wore on, my money wore away, and so did 
my body. A friend of mine, at the end of the second term, 
did not know me, or was alarmed when he saw me, I had 
grown so thin and pale. Only one more term, however, 
remained, and that was the spring and summer term, 
extending to the middle of July. I pressed on as usual, 
reading, studying, thinking, leaving future plans to be 
developed when I came to the time for needing a plan. 
About the middle of the term, however, I found that some 
of those who were going to college that fall, had no more 
money than I had, they expected to teach school during 
winter — the school system of New England, affording them 
this opportunity, and while teaching, keep up with their 



50 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

classes in college, and pass examinations at the regular 
times ; thus being in college two terms of a year, and out of 
college one term, but in this one working for money enough 
to pay the expenses of the other two. I had no reason to 
doubt that I was as well prepared for college as they, and 
concluded to go too, leaving the selection of the proper 
place to the future, and I proceeded to get ready. I had 
accomplished in one year what they had done in two years 
and a half, although I afterwards found it had nearly killed 
me. For weeks together I used to go without my dinner, 
in order to be clearer headed, and also secure more time 
for study. Of course no human body could be sustained 
long, under that treatment; I slept very little, and by the 
time the end of the term came I was almost a shadow, and 
hardly retained mental vigor enough to prepare a piece for 
the exhibition, which always took place at the close of the 
year. I have often wondered since, why the men who had 
charge of the institution, did not protest against my exces- 
sive confinement and study. Yet they did not, and I had 
to take the consequences. 

" From the time the school closed, to the beginning of 
the college year, there was an interval of two months. I 
began to inquire diligently about colleges ; remaining at the 
same time at school, as board was cheap there, studying 
to make up my deficiencies in Latin and Greek. The other 
students who were going to college, went to a Methodist 
institution at Middletown, Connecticut; I wished to go to 
an Episcopal college, and decided to enter Trinity, at Hart- 
ford, Connecticut. 

Here commenced a series of providences which over- 
whelm me with gratitude to God for His wonderful care and 
goodness toward me. My $175 had diminished down to a 
very small item. When my board was paid I could scarcely 
pay my way through JSTew York to Hartford. "With my 
little trunk, however, holding all I had in the world, books, 
clothes and everything, I went to New York, called to see 






AMENIA SEMINARY. 51 

my old landlady, who kindly invited me to make her house 
my home while in the city. I was very glad of this, as I 
wished to stay a day or two. My old employer had gone 
to the country, and I went to see my friend, the agent of my 
uncle, who had always taken an interest in me. He was 
a godly man, to him I have since become greatly indebted, 
and have ever found him a true friend, whose name 
you have often heard — he was a merchant of ISTew York, 
with a residence in Brooklyn. He listened to my plans 
and said nothing, but as he was a silent man I did not sup- 
pose he deemed them extravagant. In a day or two I went 
on board the steamboat, and paid out almost my last 
dollar for a ticket to Hartford. • 

" Now there are one or two reflections occasioned by this 
chapter, and I wish you to remember that I solemnly enjoin 
them upon your observance. I am not expecting to live to 
mould your future years, and I wish you to know something 
of your father. I wish also to leave some record of my 
care for you, and that you may show how much you treasure 
my memory by observing the precepts I leave with you. 

" First, then, act always from principle, make this your 
constant habit; be a judge to yourselves daily, and tremble 
at the very thought of detecting yourselves in inconsistency, 
levity, or folly. You see I can hardly suggest even the 
thought that you will be delinquent to any virtue or truth. 
I exhort you to take God for your guide, and live by 
faith in the Saviour. Sit constantly at the feet of Jesus to 
learn of him ; not as many do, to learn what he says and 
then neglect every precept. Grow in grace, and seek con- 
stantly, by absorbing the divine law, to become a law to 
yourself. Ask for no other master, and remember you are 
what you make yourselves. ~No agency, human or divine, 
can make that head or heart wise, which is bent only on 
folly. Solomon says ' though you bray a fool in a mortar, 
among wheat, with a pestle, yet will not his folly depart 
from him.' Life will thus be to you what you make it. 



52 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

If your life is hid with Christ in God, you shall have peace 
and joy. You may be like a rose in a bed of nettles, but 
you shall be a rose. The nettles themselves shall not hurt 
you, but only enhance your joys. Have an hour, many 
hours, for self-communion, for communion with God, for 
the study of God's word. If the lispings of prayer shall 
be to you the sweetest of experiences, I shall fear nothing 
for you. If ever you attain to this, let nothing rob you 
of your treasure. Have no fear of the world or anything, 
but cherish it as your life, and especially remember, what- 
ever your lot or wherever it may be, that no man ever had 
more or better friends than I have had, apart from the con- 
siderations, growing out of the circumstances of my child- 
hood. I have never been able to repay one of them, and 
never shall be able. They were God's gifts to me. If ever 
you hear the name of Thomas D. Middleton, be kind to the 
being who bears the name. If ever you hear the names of 
any other friends of mine, as you shall become acquainted 
with these names hereafter, be kind to each and all who bear 
them. Lest you should escape one such friend, view a Mid- 
dleton in every human being, and be kind to every human 
creature. You will never pay my debt. In every lonely 
soul, in every friendless one, in every child of want, see a 
being toward whom you can radiate a blessing. All that 
you have, give to Jesus, by giving to those who want. Be 
in life, not a mere drift, be an angel of mercy, be like your 
Master, be actively and passively useful. 1 mean do all the 
good you can, and when you are not doing good consciously, 
have that disposition ; be so tinctured with holiness that you 
shall still radiate good. Be meek, poor in spirit, and a 
peace-maker. Hunger and thirst after God. One more 
thing, remember it is trial which is to prove you. ^"ever 
be dismayed by difficulties ; I do not say start out for 
impossible ends, but upon mature deliberation, concluding 
a thing to be attainable and worth the costs, then pay the 
costs. Perseverance will triumph. ' Faith will remove 



AMENIA SEMINARY. 53 

mountains.' And more than this, have a plan in life, an 
object in living — only those having such are fit to live. 
They will have more to do in consequence, meet more 
difficulty, but they alone are worthy of an exalted destiny. 
For this reason the Christian is blessed, he has his object, 
a great one, the possession of his soul ; the keeping himself 
from the world, and preparing for the enjoyment of the 
saints in light, learning well the song of the redeemed, ' set 
your affections on things above,' and ' press toward the 
mark.'" 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 



As a story of college life the following pages cannot but 
~be read with intense interest and profit. He continues : — 

" I awoke at the dock in Hartford on the next morning, 
not that I slept over soundly, for I slept on the floor of the 
cabin. I took my trunk ashore and after breakfast went 
out to find the college. It being vacation, there were very 
few of its officers there, but after a while I found a professor 
who advised me to bring my trunk up, and he would give 
me a room. Of course the room was empty. This profes- 
sor very kindly took me about to find a boarding house. 
Somehow, I did not wish much to find one, as I had no 
money to pay for board ; but the good man acted so unsus- 
piciously, I could not confess to him my circumstances, and 
was passively led just where he directed. After a while we 
found a place with a very kind lady, whom I shall have 
occasion to mention again. She was a widow, with a large 
family, to whom my soul took a liking as soon as I saw her ; 
but being very shy and awkward and conscious of not 
being able to pay for my board, I know I appeared to her 
a very undesirable addition to her family. In my diffidence 
I would sometimes use expressions that seemed rude, and 
were so, except in their intention. The fare here was very 
good and what I very much needed, for, exercising my body 
as I had done recently, gave me a good appetite and for 
some time I had been a stranger to anything very inviting. 
The place at which I stopped in New York was an excellent 
one, but I had been scarcely there even to dinner, being 
otherwise engaged, and in truth not caring to meet any of 
the old boarders. 



56 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" That first day after dinner, I set about to furnish my 
room in the college. My prospects were anything but 
bright. I however, bought a cot, a straw mattress, two 
sheets, which I did not get for two or three days, one pillow, 
a very cheap coverlid, a table, washbowl and pitcher. When 
night came I found I had no light, so I went down town 
and bought a lamp, and had just one half dime left, with 
this I went to get oil, and in a very unconcerned manner- 
asked the man behind the counter to fill it. ' How much 
is it V said I. He replied, ' four-pence ' — so I threw down 
my half dime expecting a cent back, but he said, ' no matter 
this will do,' so he very coolly put it in the drawer. I 
turned away thinking what the man could mean, and it 
shortly occurred to me that a New York six-pence was a 
Yankee four-pence, and that in reality I owed the man a 
cent, instead of his owing me one. 

"On I went to college, begged a few matches, struck a 
light, and having no chair I drew up my trunk and took a 
seat. My feelings I shall not undertake to describe. If I 
had just left home I suppose I should say I was homesick.. 
That I felt not over-cheerful I am certain, and I somehow 
thought of the old room at school. I felt unutterably 
lonely. I was not sure of being able to pass my examina- 
tion for entering college. Still, I never thought whether it 
was wrong in me to set up to be a student. It did not seem 
to me that I was undergoing any hardship, or that nry 
prospects promised anything of the kind. I felt the love 
of God, and thought that some day I should preach the 
Gospel. 

"After a while I opened my trunk, got out my Bible? 
and, after committing my way to the Lord, went to bed y . 
and slept very comfortably all night. Next morning 1 was 
awakened by the singing of the birds. The college is very 
beautifully situated, surrounded by trees, and had I been 
in any other circumstances, I should probably have per- 
ceived the beauty everywhere about me. I went down to 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 57 

"breakfast, and afterward made the acquaintance of one or 
two students who were spending their vacation at the 
college, their homes being far distant. 

" I went back to my room very soon, not being prepared 
for the society of the jolly-headed students. Moreover, I 
could see that they thought me very uncouth, for though I 
was considerably so, yet circumstances conspired to make 
me more so. My clothes were not fashionable, my spirits 
not jubilant, and their merriment only made me more sad. 

" I had a few books, and went to studying Greek, Latin, 
and Algebra, to prepare for my examinations. In a day or 
two the new students began to come in, and among them I 
found one or two whom I felt certain did not know more 
than I did, and this encouraged me. They felt confident of 
getting through, and consequently I thought I could. In a 
day or two more there came along one who was as poor as 
myself; though coming from the West, and bringing letters 
from a Bishop, he found friends and assistance. 

" When my lamp had burned out, there came another 
trouble. I would take a walk and then go to bed, but 
being left to my reflections, did not much enjoy the even- 
ings, and I needed the time for additional study. I thought 
I would write to my friend, the Xew York " agent," and 
ask him to lend me 05, which I did, and soon received a 
letter containing the money. I then purchased more oil 
and went on with my studies. When three weeks had 
gone by, I began to feel that my board bill was increasing, 
and there was no prospect of paying it, and being in debt 
to a widow quite alarmed me, so I thought I would begin 
at once to board myself, and after telling the lady of my 
decision, and promising to pay her as soon as I was able, I 
left her. 

" The college term was about to begin, and the dav came 
for examination. In Algebra I passed very well, and also 
in Latin, but in Greek I was caught. I supposed that not 



58 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

to pass in a study, was not to be able to get into college, so 
I was very much disheartened. 

"The Professor had requested me to come to him the 
next morning and he would tell me what I was to do. He 
called me after prayers in the chapel, and said, that having 
learned of the very excellent examinations I had passed in 
my other studies, he had concluded to admit me, though 
upon condition of passing an extra examination at the end 
of the term. That was all I wanted, and was greatly 
rejoiced, for I had vanity enough to believe I could study 
as well as any of them, if I got the chance. 

" At first, after leaving my boarding house, I ate bread 
and cheese, and drank cold water, for breakfast, took a 
cheap dinner at an eating house down town, and had no 
supper. I found after a while that my $5 .began to look 
very small, so I gave up my dinner, and changed from 
white bread to brown. At last I gave up the cheese, then 
had to get trusted for my bread, and for many weeks lived 
on bread and water alone. I studied very hard all this 
time, and was at last so weak that I could not distinguish 
objects across the street, though my eyesight had always 
been good. Sometimes the trees would seem to be inverted, 
and everything would assume a shadowy appearance. The 
nights, too, began to grow cold, and my scanty supply of 
bed Clothes did not keep me warm. 

"I went now to put my plan in execution of getting a 
school. They were making winter arrangements in the 
county districts, but somehow I could not succeed, some 
places were supplied, and I suppose my youthful and sickly 
appearance made the school committees afraid of me. I 
w r alked some Saturdays without success, until I had nearly 
fainted. My baker got tired of letting me have bread, and 
what to do I did not know. I saw nothing before me but 
the prospect of giving up all hope of getting an education 
and very sadly thought of something else to do. I had not 
however, trusted enough to God. I had thought too much 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 59 

of helping myself, of human agencies, and now when help 
could come from God only, He undertook for me, and my 
way was plain. 

" I had written to my New York friend asking for an 
additional loan of a few dollars, he wrote back sending me 
$36, but at the same time telling me not to stint myself, to 
go on and study, and for what money I wanted to send to 
him ; if I was ever able to pay him well and good, if not 
he would never ask it. What a relief that letter was to me ! 
My soul burst out in tears of thanksgiving. I could hardly 
believe my own senses. 

" Although I have lived to pay that friend every cent I 
ever borrowed, and though the money with which I paid 
him was given to me, yet I have ever regarded that act as 
the greatest kindness I ever received. It is in connection 
with him and this money, that God's providence has been 
to me most wonderfully marked, and while not forgetful of 
the human agents, to God I give all the praise. 

" With this money I paid my bills, got a few more bed- 
clothes, and on the strength of the promise of my friend, 
went back to the good widow to board. In beginning to 
eat again, I nearly killed myself, for I ate what my system 
was too weak to assimilate. However, after this I was very 
-comfortable and God manifested his goodness to me in 
another manner, in a trust of which I proved unworthy. 

" There was in my class a young man who had lost his 
father, and was his mother's idol. She had come to college 
with him, and made his room very comfortable ; he had 
everything a student could wish. He was good-hearted, 
but very wild; the dissipated students in the college got 
around him, taught him to drink, to go into bad company, 
and neglect his studies; in short, bid fair to make a wreck 
of him, soul and body. The president of the college took 
more than an ordinary interest in him, and became satisfied 
that he would be ruined if he went on in this way, and con- 



60 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

eluded to place him under the care of a steady, reliable 
student, who would act as a check upon his excesses. 

" Partly because he knew that I was in want of many 
things which this boy had in abundance, and seeing that I 
was constantly at study, and never out of my room at 
nights, he selected me to go and room with this youth. 

" The proposition was made to me under pretence of want- 
ing the room I had, and though thinking the proposition a 
strange one, I went. For about three weeks everything 
progressed very well. He would read his mother's letters, 
weep over them, and go to bed sobbing. How I longed for 
just such letters, but my poor mother was far away, and 
knew nothing of my wants or my trials. I used to talk to 
him, and he listened to me with a strange interest. He had 
been brought up a strict Episcopalian, and considered me 
half a Methodist, but still had a kind of affection for me. 
He would not study ; poor boy, flattered, caressed, and 
indulged, he had never seen a day of care in his life. It 
was with the greatest difficulty I could get him to sit still 
long enough for me to get over a lesson, he was ever impa- 
tient for me to read it to him. In the recitation room all. 
my mistakes he would repeat, and think himself justified if 
he could say I told him so. His former boon companions 
could not get into his room, for I would not let them in, and 
so he went off' to their's. He would stay out late, and 
come home frequently intoxicated. Of course my peace was 
destroyed, but not knowing just why I was placed with him r 
I did not restrain him as much as I might ; did not bear 
with him, and speak to him as tenderly as I might have 
done. I told him if he did not put a stop to his habits I 
would leave, and poor fellow, he looked at me with despair.. 
I saw he thought he would have to leave college, and feared: 
the anguish, such a result would cause his mother. Her 
influence had this power over him ; he would not go to bed 
without saying his prayers, no matter what his condition 
was, and often had to be taken from his knees, poor boy ? 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 61 

when he had fallen asleep, and be put to bed. Yet, in illus- 
tration of the vanity of an influence based in the mere arti- 
ficialities of life, he would, with h\& friends, sneer at the very 
religion his mother had taught him. She had crammed the 
church into him, but it had not pressed him any nearer to 
God. Religion at home must have been a sentiment, a part 
of its refinement, a worldly grace to adorn the circle to 
which he belonged. I left him, and at the end of the term 
the poor fellow was sent home, and I have never heard what 
became of him. 

" During the progress of the first term I began to get 
much dissatisfied, although I had now reason to content 
myself. I was then, as I have ever been in everything, 
deeply in earnest. 

" I made a visit to Middletown, Connecticut, the seat of 
the Wesley an University, in which were many of my old 
school companions, and they urged me to join them. The 
Rev. Dr. Olin was then President of the Institution, a man 
of great intellect and very fervent piety, and with all, a sort 
of father to the students. I attended their chapel services 
and heard one of his fatherly addresses. Then, too, they 
had their long vacation in winter, especially for those stu- 
dents who had to go out and teach. I half decided to 
leave Trinity and go to Middletown, and after consulting 
my New York friend, in the spring of 1851, I was entered 
a student in the Wesleyan University. Here, as I expected, 
I found much more earnestness, there was more heart and 
soul in the work; but it was very evident that Dr. Olin 
was the balance wheel of the institution. Shortly after 
going there, I somehow lost my abilility to study, my mind 
would not work ; for upwards of two years it had been on 
one constant stretch of exertion and anxiety, and I w T as 
broken down ; not knowing what ailed me, and not having 
it in my power to obtain the rest and recreation I needed, 
I was very much mortified at my appearance in the classes. 
I could not endure the idea of being censured by the pro- 



62 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

fessors, and once or twice I had to go before Dr. Olin and 
give an account of my delinquencies, and he did not know 
what ailed me, nor could he have helped me if he had 
known. I was very much rejoiced when, in summer, I 
passed my examination of the Freshman year, and found 
myself with a vacation of four weeks before me. 

" During this vacation I made some acquaintances in town, 
through the kindness of some ladies at my boarding house, 
and among others was that of a blind lady. She was a per- 
son who had been blind about ten years, and was first 
afflicted at the age of fifteen. Iler acquaintance became to 
me a valuable acquisition, as she was deeply pious, and it 
was such piety as I had been longing to find. She seemed 
to live as in the presence of God; her soul was ever flooded 
with divine peace and joy, and her little darkened room was 
always to me the gate of heaven. 

" For some reason or other she took a special fancy to me, 
and so I was often there, reading to, and praying with her, 
and with similar attentions from other friends, she had gone 
over a very large range of reading, and had acquired a vast 
amount of information. In addition to this, she had very 
refined sensibilities and tastes. I regarded it a great privi- 
lege to read to her, and loved to go there ; there was no 
formality; not a moment was spent in trifling, and I felt 
blessed while I was there, and the blessing lingers with me 
to this day. Other students had been blessed in a similar 
way, and have gone out to radiate many a blessing, which, 
but for her, they would never have had. Thus her prayer 
has been answered. She was ever longing to be for God's 
glory ; thus the soul that is given to Christ, be its earthly 
contingencies what they may, shall noi be barren or unfruit- 
ful ; but, being like the Saviour, shall be a blessing to many. 
Such souls are even to this world of more value than the 
greatest princes. They are children of God. 

I made another valued friend in a Presbyterian lady, pos- 
sessed of considerable means, and desirous of doing all the 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 63 

good she could. One evening I told her I was going to 
Farorington to teach school. She inquired why I went, and 
I had to tell her. I saw she seemed to pause and dwell on 
what I said, though she made no further remark ahout it. 
That woman, before I finished my college course, had 
entered into rest, though not without frequently reminding 
me that she did not forget my circumstances. I often re- 
ceived money through the post office, which I knew came 
from her, though there was not a word said or written 
about it, and often when I had been in want of money, I 
had gone and found a ten dollar bill sent by her, a double 
gift to me, from her and from the Lord. 

May her works richly follow her; I have ever tried to be 
kind to the poor and needy, and my prayer is, that all my 
works may be added as part of theirs who helped me. 

In the fall of this year, 1851, 1 went to Farmington, I had 
there a school of thirty, at §22 a month and board. I can- 
not say I excessively enjoyed it. I did not know enough 
about the ways of the people, to enter fully into sympathy 
with them, and I was very glad when my four months were 
up, so that I could return to college. My eighty-odd dollars, 
however, I was very glad to have, but it did not greatly 
diminish the demands upon my friend, and I began to 
despair of ever being able to repay him. 

" Although I had studied hard all the winter, besides 
teaching, seldom going to bed before two or three o'clock 
in the morning, yet my health was somewhat improved. 
The very change had done me good, and my mind had more 
of its old vigor, and wdrile looking as if far gone in con- 
sumption, I still possessed great energy and rejoiced in the 
old proverb, that ' it takes a lean horse for a long race.' At 
the college however, I found considerable change in every- 
thing and not for the better. 

" Dr. Olin had died late in the previous summer and the 
students began to scatter, and nearly half my class had 
gone. Religious excitements were introduced in the college, 



64 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

and I could not bring myself to like them. After looking 
around and making inquiries I concluded to go back to 
Trinity, as I knew the best and the worst of that institution, 
and had learned my first lesson in the uselessness of making 
changes. I went back resolved to make the best use of my 
time, let the college irregularities be what they might. I 
accordingly entered the sophomore, or second, year in 
Trinity. 

" Things were carried on as ever, but I was now prepared 
for them, and found out at last that every man must depend 
upon his own resources. Through this term I pressed on 
studying night and day, never thinking that my constitution 
must give way under such treatment. I mingled very little 
with the other students, and went not at all into society. I 
read constantly, wrote much, and cannot reproach myself 
with having lost an hour except by my folly in over doing 
my strength. 

" During this term an uncle of mine, the husband of my 
father's sister, unexpectedly died, and left me by will the 
sum of $400. This was a very timely gift to me, as it more 
than paid my friend and left a balance to my credit. Thus 
God already began to manifest his care of me and formed 
another link in that wonderful chain of providences, which 
placed me at last in the ministry free of debt. As my sum- 
mer vacation approached I received a letter from my brother, 
who traded between Bermuda and Baltimore, making me 
an offer of a free passage home and back if I would spend 
the vacation at home. I gladly accepted the offer and went 
to spend eight weeks with my mother. 

" This was in 1852, it being five years since we had met. 
I had, of course, greatly changed, my own mother would not 
have known me ; but people at home had changed too ; 
the young looked no longer young, and the old had grown 
older, and things at our own home went on pretty much as 
ever. At last my vacation ended, and I had to bid a sad 
farewell. From that day to this I have never seen the 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 65 

place that gave me birth. My mother rests from all her 
works, trials, and sufferings, in the arms of the Saviour, 
there, in God's good time, I trust to meet her, no more to 
part, forever to rejoice in the love that gave us each to the 
other, and the love that saved us both. * * * 

" During my junior course I confined myself ardently to 
my books, not exclusively to text books, but to reading, 
Writing, and close study ; indeed, so much of my time did 
I devote to general subjects, that I incurred the suspicion 
of the professors. I went to the recitation room as seldom 
as possible, finding it a mere place for sleep or play, or a 
repetition of what was in the books. As our standing in 
college depended upon the regularity with which the gen- 
eral routine was observed, of course I lost caste ; my rank 
sunk to nowhere. The mere struggle for college honors 
reduced the entire course to child's play, and I was from 
year to year less desirous for those honors, as I saw who 
were the successful competitors. I do not pretend to say I 
was right, but having no one to advise me, I adopted the 
most profitable course, and, in my estimation, the wisest. 
'No college honor can make a man a student, any more than 
a diploma can make a man wise. In hard study and seclu- 
sion the year wore away. As usual, I had a class in the 
Sunday school, and always attended the college missionary 
society, and did all I could to contribute to its efficiency. 
Some merriment was begotten in college by a certain 
charity fund which I originated and carried into successful 
operation. * * * * I call your attention to this inci- 
dent, my dear children, in order to lend the assurance of 
my own experience to the great truth ' It is more blessed 
to give than to receive.' Believe it always, and always act 
upon it. I ask you to take the more notice of this, because 
I shall in the future pass by all similar incidents in my life, 
of which you may easily imagine my ministry would fur- 
nish me with frequent opportunity, bearing in mind that 
the object of this writing is not to give you a history of 
5 



66 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

any apparent good works I have done, but only to furnish 
you with that general outline, which, from the fact of its 
connection with me, might make some principles the more 
impressive. If I repeat what I have often expressed before, 
it is only because I feel it to be one of the prime privileges 
of our mortality to ' have pity upon the poor, not idle sentiment, 
but substantial sympathy.' 

" Toward the close of this year I began to look around 
me for someway of spending the approaching vacation; 
some way at once profitable to me and useful to others. 
Whilst this was revolving in my mind, an agent of the 
American Sunday School Union visited our college, looking 
for young men to serve as agents in the field, in the way 
of aiding old schools, organizing new ones, and selling 
books ; in short, doing all the good they could. The idea 
took with me at once, and as I had some desire to visit 
Canada, I chose that field. One other student, a classmate, 
was induced to join me. The agreement was for three and 
a half dollars per week, and one-fifth or twenty per-cent 
on all received for books ; but to pay our own expenses, 
excepting to the field and back again, that is, all expenses 
during the period of actual labor. 

" The morning after our examination closed we started. 
My friend lived in Boston, and wanted to go home for a 
day or two and took me with him ; all the ups and downs 
of this trip it is impossible for me to describe ; I learned 
more in two months, than in any similar period of my life. 
Boston was an historic city to me, I had read of it in my 
childhood, and felt exquisite pleasure in tramping over the 
common, ascending Bunker Hill Monument, standing in 
Faneuil Hall, and viewing this scene and that. The father 
of my friend was a very aged gentleman and could reraem- 
ber the battle of Bunker Hill, which he witnessed, and 
took as much delight in telling me of it, as I did in Iris re- 
hearsals. He could point to various localities, and the many 
changes which had occurred in the intervening years. 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 67 

After a day or two, we retraced our way to Springfield, 
thence to Burlington, by Lake Champlain to Rouse's Point, 
and so into Canada. We took it leisurely, visiting all 
points of interest, walking everywhere that we could then 
reach. The scenery of the Green Mountains enchanted 
me more than the Hudson Highlands or the Catskill range. 
We arrived at Montreal on Friday and spent Saturday and 
Sunday there. From breakfast time until dark we were 
on the go, visiting churches, and the suburbs, and climbing 
the mountain which overlooks the river and the town. My 
friend was even more delighted than I, as he had never 
seen anything but Boston, and his presence in a foreign 
country was new to him. To me, the sight of the old 
British flag had something in it exceedingly pleasing, the 
English soldiers reminded me of my boyhood; the Scotch 
Highlanders, the pride of the British Army, I had seen 
before in the Bermudas ; and though they had not for me 
the interest of novelty, yet I doubt not my own emotions 
were more delightful than those of my friend, because my 
mind could supply associations, which to him were impos- 
sible. 

" The monasteries and different classes of nuns, together 
with the general bloom of Roman Catholicism, greatly 
interested us ; neither of us had ever seen so much of the 
genuine article before, for in the United States, this denomi- 
nation had nowhere reached the same degree of develop- 
ment. The city of Montreal had, however, nothing in it 
very attractive to us. The poorer classes seemed not only 
poor, but ignorant. The great lethargy of the English 
church was quite as apparent here as in the West Indies ; 
this struck my friend as very strange, for he was so 
thoroughly churchly, he had supposed the English establish- 
ment the very acme of excellence. Our field of labor lay 
about fifty miles from the city, and on Monday afternoon 
we took the stage for Waterloo. Next evening we separated 
for our different missions, and I think that night was one 



68 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

of the most lonely I ever experienced. However, I realized 
I was upon a working trip, and not a pleasure excursion, so 
after resting on Wednesday, and being excessively fatigued 
from the stage ride, I went to work. I had sent my books, 
&c, on before, by stage, and I found a kind person in whose 
care I could leave them during my journeys into the adjacent 
country. My plan was to have a centre from which to 
radiate. In some places there were no schools, and I had 
to visit people to induce them to organize them. I called 
out old Sunday schools, to address them, stopped at every 
door, and had a word with the women and children, and 
entered harvest fields and workshops, talking and leaving 
a tract or book other than those I sold. The work was very 
arduous, demanding exposure to all weather ; but I found 
the people very hospitable, and glad at any time to enter- 
tain me. I spent seven weeks in the country, and very 
rarely had to pay for anything to eat, or a place in which to 
sleep. To be sure, I was not particular, and I slept in all 
sorts of places; one night in as neat and clean a spare room 
as could be found in any house, the next night some young 
lady would vacate her bed room for my accommodation, and 
again, I would climb a ladder to some loft in which was laid 
a comfortable bed for any weary man. I lived chiefly on 
bacon and corn bread, perferring it to the white, which was 
generally heavy. 

" On Sundays I usually addressed the people in a school- 
house, or meeting-house, and this I found was not always 
easy to do, the difference between college debates and talk- 
ing for the purpose of doing others good, being very great. 
I found a kind-hearted -people, and piously inclined, though 
much troubled with ' isms/ and some notions which I 
thought had been dead for ages, still had a ' local habita- 
tion ' among them. 

" I communicated occasionally with my friend. He had 
his home constantly at the house of a wealthy and pious 
widow, so that his labors did not compare with mine, for 



TRINITY COLLEGE. 69 

her son always went with him in a little wagon, carrying 
him and his books. I, however, sold most books, though 
nearly at the sacrifice of my life. At one place I was taken 
sick, but a kind Providence provided for me. At that house 
I found every comfort and attention, and in a few days was 
able to go on my way. After a while the time approached 
for our return, and I held a consultation with my friend, 
and we decided to go by way of St. John's, on the St. Francis 
river, and so by rail to Montreal. In order to get to St. 
John's we travelled through the French country on foot, 
walking, on one day, upwards of thirty miles, having once 
lost our way. We found the people uninteresting, ignorant, 
and apparently wretched. One little village seemed full of 
cripples and idiots. Upon arriving at Montreal, and com- 
paring notes, we found we had made and saved money 
enough to travel a little, and we resolved to take a trip to 
Quebec. This city interested me very much, as it was the 
only walled city I had ever seen. Apart from this, the 
natural features of the adjacent country, and the historic 
incidents connected with the place, made it well worth the 
visit. After a few days of sight-seeing and consequent 
fatigue, for we walked everywhere, we went back to Mon- 
treal, thence to the White Mountains, when we climbed up 
Mount Washington, and had the pleasure of dining on the 
top with an English lord. This day's work was the hardest 
that I ever did. We rose at dawn, walked up the mountain 
and down again, and then nine miles to the station-house, 
where we took the cars for Portland, Maine, arriving 
at midnight. We went from there to Boston, where I left 
my friend, and returned to Hartford. After visiting the 
World's Fair in New York, I returned to college, having 
been absent, altogether, about two months and a half. I 
had seen more of the world and human nature, had parted 
with many prejudices, and had gained a facility in address- 
ing men, having a higher view of life and of mankind, com- 
bined with an additional interest in the race generally. The 



70 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

whole trip was of immense value and benefit to me, except- 
ing that it did my general health no good. 

" My senior year, however, was not an arduous one, and I 
had time to recover. This term was pleasant enough, but 
rather monotonous, though some of the studies were of 
the most entertaining kind. I pursued my usual quiet way, 
and the months soon rolled round ; examination day arrived, 
and the class passed very respectably. The honors were all 
awarded, of which I got none ; did not expect any, and was 
fully as well satisfied. Some who did receive them could 
not prepare their own orations ; and one of them, a few years 
after, though in the ministry, could not write a sermon. I, 
however, got my diploma, which I have hardly seen from 
that day to this, and it has been of very little use to me. 

"I had intended to pass my vacation at the college, and 
then go to the Theological Seminary in New York, but just 
before I graduated v the President of Racine College, in Wis- 
consin, gave me an offer to become a tutor there, to teach 
two hours a day, and help in the general administration of 
college rules; he was to help me in my theological studies, 
and give me $225 for the collegiate year. I accepted the 
offer, thinking that by this means I could pay my way, study 
very nearly as much, and enter the seminary in New York, 
in the middle year, and be just as far along." 

Some reflections which follow the foregoing in the origi- 
nal record are necessarily omitted for want of space. 



EARLY PARISH EXPERIENCES. 



We now come to a summary of life from the time of 
leaving college, to his acceptance of a call to a country 
parish at Bridgeport, Pennsylvania. 

" After graduating at college I went to Racine, taught 
in the college and pursued my studies, working hard for 
one year. 

" While there, my children, I first met your mother, she 
was then going to school, I saw her for the first time in the 
college chapel. * * * 

" At the expiration of a year, in 1855, I went back to 
New York, passed my examinations for middle year, in the 
General Theological Seminary. Besides my studies there I 
had to teach an hour each day for five days in the week, 
and for this I was paid one dollar an hour. I was thus 
enabled to meet my expenses, and now and then buy a book. 

" In addition to this, I had the charge of a mission work. 
This employed me on Saturdays and Sundays. Up early 
on Sunday morning, I was at the school before nine o'clock 
with 500 children to look after, and had my hands full ; 
and very often at half-past ten I had to begin service, yes, 
almost always, for the missionary was an aged man, and not 
able to do the work and therefore left it to me. Then, after 
reading service, I had to lecture very often without any 
preparation whatever, other than the thinking I was able to 
do as the day advanced. After dinner I returned to an 
additional service, and a talk of half an hour to the school. 
Many and many a Sunday night after getting to the Semi- 
nary, which was two miles from the mission, walking all 



72 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

the way, I was too weary to rise from my lounge to go and 
get my supper, the refreshment of which I greatly needed. 

" After going through the middle year, and reaching the 
long vacation — the last one I was ever to see in this world — 
instead of going away to rest, I was persuaded to visit Long 
Island, and enter upon a mission work there, and when five 
weeks had passed in exposure to the sun by day, and to the 
discomfort of a heated loft or attic by night, I was pros- 
trated by an attack of sickness. The water was not good, 
and the fare was very indifferent, but I got back to my 
room at the seminary, and there grew worse and worse,, 
with nobody to help me. When I was too ill to move, my 
kind landlady sent for me, and had me conveyed to her 
residence. One night I supposed that I would die, and re- 
signed myself into the hands of God, and in order to relieve 
me of my pains, I took the laudanum bottle, and without 
measuring a dose, almost unconsciously turned it up to my 
lips and drank; it put me into a sound sleep, and I did not 
wake until late in the morning. Somehow, I felt better,, 
and from that day did get better, but by the time the term 
began, I could hardly walk. Yet, I had no money to go 
away with, so as to rest and recruit, and I went to work 
again not feeling like myself at all. As Christmas came 
on, I endeavored to get up a festival for the mission 
children. This involved a great deal of extra labor. On 
the night before Christmas, I had been over to the mission 
room till quite late. I walked home through a snow storm 
and went to bed. Next morning I w T as so ill that I could 
not lift my head from the pillow, and I have never seen a 
really well day since. Indeed, when I review this part of 
my life, I wonder that I am alive. * * * * 

" However, I dragged through the year, passed my exami- 
nations, and was ordained by Bishop Potter, in Trinity 
Church, New York, in June, 1857. Then, under the advice 
of my friends, I must do another foolish thing. My temper- 
ament and disposition all superinduced in me a tendency to 



EARLY PARISH EXPERIENCES. 73 

over-work. What I needed was rest, comfort, good food, 
and cheerful society, to build me up. Instead of this, my 
advisers said ' Frontier life is the thing for you, go to the 
west, go to Kansas, be a missionary for a while, &c.' 

" At this time the political troubles of the country had 
greatly increased, slavery had made .its aggressions till the 
nation was roused, and Kansas was applying for admission 
into the Union. The South said she must be a slave State, 
the North said a free State, and so trouble began. In fact 
the tear began in Kansas. Meanwhile both political parties 
wrote very inflammable articles about Kansas, for the news- 
papers, and among other things they told of the human 
thousands who were pouring in, to settle there. This 
roused the church, party spirit ran high in the church, too, 
I mean that curse, that unchristian and irreligious spirit of 
high and low church. Volunteers were called for, to go 
and preach to the destitute and perishing people of Kansas. 
I, among others, threw myself into the work, and went to 
Kansas immediately. "When I got there I found it very 
difficult to tell in what part to settle; I think there is no 
exaggeration in saying that every quarter section in Eastern 
Kansas, had a town laid out on it, upon the maps, and each 
town was, beyond a doubt, to be the future metropolis. In 
the meantime, excepting Leavenworth and Lawrence, there 
was no real town. At these two places there were minis- 
ters, and so I went to a place called Quindaro, near Kansas 
City, in Missouri. At this little place I have preached to 
four ministers in the congregation at one time, and I found 
I had been deceived. The need of ministers was not so 
great as had been represented. The houses were only 
shells, indeed some people slept out of doors ; the food was 
horrible, and my health grew worse. I did not know what 
to do, prices were very high, and at such hotels and board- 
ing places as there were I had to mingle with vile people, 
even to sleep with them, and I was almost in despair. I 
did not like to retreat and say I could not stand it, for 



74 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

such was the fanaticism of the church at this moment, that 
such a step would have branded me as a coward. Letters 
I received reminded me that I ' must endure hardship as 
a good soldier.' 

" Yes, I did endure hardships, and I resolved in my mind 
all sorts of plans for relief. At last I thought I would 
build a shanty, and go to housekeeping. There would be 
more comfort in it, and my money would not be so rapidly 
stolen from me, and I could more easily do my work. 

" I had for some time been engaged to be married, and I 
wrote, explaining my plans, to your mother, and she agreed 
with me. Although sick at the time I made a bargain for 
a shanty, and went back to Wisconsin. After waiting there 
about three weeks, until I became better, I was married, and 
returned to Kansas.* When I arrived in Kansas, I could 
not get the shanty I had engaged, and we had to board, — 
and such a life ! The winter came on, I grew worse and 
worse, and in the spring, I hardly had strength to get back 
to New York. Still, I got there, though completely shat- 
tered. Being now married, having no means, and nobody 
to help me, but one particular friend, I had to be at work, 
and took a parish in Brooklyn, a half-dead parish. f 

" The Church of the Messiah was then a mere name. I 
went to work ; prosperity set in ; the church filled up ; we 
enlarged, and again got full. Spring came, and by this 
time I was nearly dead. I began somewhat to realize my 
situation, and saw that I had no constitution left. I was 
quite unequal to the work involved in the ministry, at any 

*He was married at Eacine, on the 15th of October, 1856, in St. Luke's 
Church, by the Eev. Koswell Park, President of Kacine College, to Miss 
Amy E. Sheldon, then residing in Eacine, but a native of Glenn's Palls, 
New York. 

f The particular friend here mentioned was Thomas D. Middleton, who 
left his own church, where he had long been a vestryman, and joined the 
church of the young clergyman for the purpose of helping him, and he 
.again became a vestryman. 



EARLY PARISH EXPERIENCES. 75 

rate, in a large parish, and I resolved, if possible, to go into 
some small one in a milder climate. 

" An offer was made me from Mt. Savage, Alleghany 
county, Maryland, and there I went. I began to get better ; 
the air was good, the place being in the mountains, and the 
house we had was comfortable. The people were very kind 
to us, and I very much enjoyed this new life, and there was 
plenty of work too. Two years and a half slipped by, and 
May and Lucy were born there. When the war broke out, 
the people were scattered, and I, in the excitement, went 
back to New York, and took a church on Lexington Avenue. 
My health failed again, and I was called to Cumberland, very 
near Mt. Savage, where Nellie was born. I stayed there 
through the war, until my health broke down, and I went 
back to Mt. Savage, and there got better again. Our little 
boy, Frank, who was born in New York, died, and at Mt. 
Savage, Tilghman was born. As my family had increased, 
and as the war had raised the costs of living to three times 
what they had been, my income was not sufficient to support 
us, so I had to look about for another parish. 

" Before leaving this passage of my life, I ought to dwell 
upon both the happiness and misery we endured in that 
region. The scenery was on all sides grand. Our little 
parsonage at Mt. Savage looked directly upon Savage 
Mountain, one of the highest of the Alleghanies ; a picture 
of it, copied from a photograph, painted by Mr. Lanman, 
hangs in our house. The little garden afforded me constant 
enjoyment, the people were kind and considerate, my salary 
was at that time $500 and a house,* and we wanted for 



*It is but just to say, for the inadequacy of this salary, Mr. Perinchief 
-was himself responsible. After he had been settled a few months at Cumber- 
land, his ministry grew to be so acceptable to the congregation, the vestry 
voluntarily proposed to raise his salary to $1200. He refused to accept 
their offer, alleging they could not afford it — that their first duty was to 
extinguish the debt of the church. The same self-sacrificing spirit influ- 
enced everv act of his life. 



76 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

nothing. Among our experiences at Cumberland during 
the war, at times we had little either to eat or to wear, my 
salary was $800, out of which I paid $100 the first year r 
and afterwards $200 for a house. 

" The church prospered, and filled up with military 
people and others, for the town grew during the war. Our 
church income was greatly increased, until the debt of 
three or four thousand dollars was paid, and something laid 
by for a parsonage. I spent much time in hospitals, and 
had an extemporized hospital of my own. The enemy 
captured the town two or three times, and we heard the 
sounds of cannon in battle. But, to tell more than this 
would take more time than I have to spare. 

" When we left that country, we went to Georgetown, 
District of Columbia. Here my salary was $1,800, but with 
the expense of premiums on my life insurance policies, and 
house rent, my income was reduced to less than $100 a 
month. 

" Everything at this time was fearfully high, but I strug- 
gled along as best I could. My parish was not too large, 
and was composed of an excellent people. I liked the 
parish, the climate, and the place, but I could not live upon 
the salary. The church was so full we could not receive 
any more, and were about to enlarge it, and the parish was 
more prosperous than it had ever been, but I knew that 
many of my people were as much straightened as I was, and 
I would not ask for an increase of salary. 

" At this time I was offered a position as Secretary of 
the Evangelical Education Society, a position I did not like, 
and ought not to have accepted. It came to me, however, 
at a time, and under such circumstances, that I did accept. 
And as soon as I resigned, my people said, ' You must not 
go, we will raise your salary to $2,500.' But it was now 
too late ; though I am truly sorry I did not reconsider my 
engagement with the Society and stay in Georgetown. I 



EARLY PARISH EXPERIENCES. 77 

ought never to have left there, but the step seemed impera- 
tive. 

" But now I must say a word about your mother. When 
we were married she was in perfect health, and supposed 
she was able, and certainly was willing, to undertake the 
life demanded of her as the wife of a minister. But 
neither she nor I knew what such a life involved. She 
bore the privations of Kansas life bravely. In Brooklyn 
she began to taste other elements ; sewing circles, charity 
societies, social demands, and unreasonable expectations. 
By temperament and disposition she was fitted for retire- 
ment, and for close intimacy with a few friends. In her 
position she could have no intimate friends, no real society, 
but was the property of the parish. She had to be as inti- 
mate with one as another, no matter whether congenial or 
not. At Mt. Savage she was relieved of this, and found 
her social relations were very pleasant, because there were 
about half a dozen families, officers of the companies with 
their wives and children — persons of culture and Christian 
consideration ; and the great mass of the people were oper- 
atives in the mining region. These, taken all for all, were 
the best people, and had more religion than any among 
whom our lot had fallen ; though, in other places, we had 
found individuals and single families in all respects their 
equal. 

" But there, at Mt. Savage, your mother began to fail in 
health, and the cares of her family were very great; and 
no tongue can tell the pain of sleepless nights, the anxious 
days, the weary, ceaseless labor, of morning, noon, and 
night, of summer and winter, which she endured for her 
children. 

" At Georgetown, she craved more than ever that repose 
and retirement which is possible to the wife of any man 
but a clergyman. She felt more keenly the pinching of 
narrow circumstances, and we both longed for some quiet 
spot where we could educate the children, free from excite- 



78 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ment. Hence, I was induced to try the Secretaryship of 
that Society. That position, however 3 relieved your mother, 
but was the worst possible thing for me. It kept me away 
from home, exposed to all sorts of weather, and I lost heart 
in it, and was compelled to go back into a parish. 

" I then had a call to Baltimore, and went there. This 
was a nice parish, with pleasant people, and we were com- 
fortable there, but your mother's ill-health increased, and I 
found the work more than I could carry, and we soon 
sought relief in the country parish of Bridgeport. 

" Let the future be to } 7 ou what it may, of one thing you 
can always be certain. Your mother and I have done for 
you the very best we could. Under all circumstances and 
conditions we have made every sacrifice for your good. 
Giving you at all times the greatest advantages our situa- 
tion could afford. I write these things trusting they may 
cause you to reflect, and be the means of keeping your feet 
in the path of wisdom, virtue, piety and affection, and of 
being a blessing to you when your father and mother are 
both at rest." 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 



The journal from which we are now to make some extracts 
bears the simple title of " Gen. Sem., 1856." It is indeed 
a kind of episode, and aside from additional glimpses of life 
at the seminary, it contains the record of two vacation tours 
made into the interior of New York and Long Island. 

It will be observed that in the beginning he makes some 
remarks upon the high and low church parties, and this 
may seem somewhat a contradiction to his avowed principles 
later in life ; yet, through all, he is evidently animated by 
that spirit of justice which is at the foundation of all his 
arguments, and reaches toward his inevitable desire to seek 
out the best criterion for a holy life; and which finally 
develops into a liberal view of the Christian religion, which 
formed the topic of his daily study, and in the practice of 
which he sets an example of true zeal and fidelity. 

" Episcopal Gen. Theo'l. Seminary, N Y., 

" October 1st, 1855. 
" This day commences the term, to me it is one of satis- 
faction. I have succeeded in passing all the examinations 
necessary for entering the middle class, and have embarked 
on seminary life in good earnest. Through a year, I have 
plodded along by myself, and have been all the time appre- 
hensive that I should not succeed. 

" January 3, 1856. 

" My last term was rich in labor, and I hope in profit. 

Apart from my seminary duties, I had the care of a mission 

under the auspices of St. George's church, which necessarily 

occupied much of my time, and became to me a tax. I 



80 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

have deemed it expedient to abandon part of my labors 
their, thinking it my duty to attend rather to my studies, 
than to any foreign matters, these studies being my prime 
business here. I shall, therefore, no longer preach there, 
but merely attend to my Sunday school. 

:$Z $z ■% $z $z $z $: % 

" During the latter part of the term, I found I must do 
something towards increasing my income. A man cannot 
live in New York without money. I, therefore, devoted two 
hours each day to teaching, which, brought me twenty-five 
dollars per month. I would have preferred to have all my 
time to myself. ' Time is money ' sometimes, but time is 
knowledge too. Two hours per day are a great accession 
to one's time for study. I have, however, little reason to 
complain — I succeeded well — I was treated well — I had my 
health — I esteemed it a privilege to be obliged to work. I see 
very many young men fairly rusting out ; I have no reason 
to believe I should be unlike them, were I not driven to 
effort. Now I think a minister of the Gospel should be 
something more than an orator and a scholar. Unless he 
exemplify the great doctrines of patience and humility, 
unless he preach by example as by precept, I care very little 
for his profession. The high churchman may place his reli- 
ance on forms and ceremonies, as he is accused of doing, 
he may talk much of the church, and fathers, and prayer- 
book, but if low-church principles are to excite a sneer for 
everything which does not coincide with them ; if they are 
to eat out the heart of Christian love ; if they are to bring 
up their votaries, in conceited ignorance, as to the plainest 
truths of scripture, then may I be delivered from being a 
low churchman. There is very much talk about modera- 
tion, and brotherly love, and making concessions to our 
* Christian brethren,' and all this may sound very well to 
those who do not define the expressions, but I am not able 
to see that churchmen are any more tenacious of their 
opinions than other men. I don't see that we are any more 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 81 

opposed to the dissenters than they are to us, if the differ- 
ence between us be anything at all it is worth contending 
for ; if it be nothing, then we are as well off as they. Let 
them claim to be based on the Bible. They surely ought 
not to quarrel with us, if we claim to do the same. The 
Bible is a blessed book, and all ought to read it. But is no 
authority to be attached to those who have, in all ages, 
expounded it, and to that church which has been its 
guardian ? I more and more value my prayer-book ; I see 
its utility, I appreciate its support. I have seen many low 
churchmen, I have been a low churchman, and I am still 
regarded as such by many. I know not one who is not 
harsh in his judgment of others. I know not a low church 
congregation who understand the scriptures, much as they 
talk about it. I mean by understanding them, reading them 
with anything like a system, so that one part may throw 
light on another. I mean, who understand them an}^ other- 
wise than that they have begun at Genesis and ended at 
Revelation, very piously reading a chapter each day. I 
have this day met with gross ignorance and misunderstand- 
ing, and do meet with it, every time I am thrown in certain 
company. I am aware all this may be said against high 
church as well as low church. I wish only to say the low 
church is no better off. 

" I have been trying to introduce the catechism into the 
Sunday School, but even this measure has been opposed. 
Alas ! that men are so easily charmed by a name ! We 
hear very much said about missions and charitable institu- 
tions, &c. I may be unwise, but I believe the world would 
be quite as well off with half of them. The mere name of 
society, the sound of philanthropy takes all vitality from 
Christian love. Much money is expended, much is given 
merely for keeping up a show. Men comfort themselves 
that they have done God service, when they have only 
done that which they were ashamed to leave undone. 

" But after all, this seems like a very poor way to com- 



82 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

mence the year, and to begin my journal. It seems very 
unkind, yet I am not unkind. I do not feel so. I feel 
rather sad than otherwise. I have met with so much, even 
this day, which palls on my sensibilities, shocks my expecta- 
tions, sends me back to my heart, to ask if deceit is the 
universal cloak of man ! Are all alike ? Is one mau no 
better than another ? Is our system no better than another 
system ? Good and bad are in this world together. Pre- 
tentions are worthless. I am more and more convinced 
every day, that all this talk about peculiar sanctity is simply 
all talk. There have always been individuals who wished 
to be considered a little better than their neighbors, and 
various devices have been employed to accomplish this end. 
In our age, seclusion, self-denial, monastic discipline have 
been the means. In another, peculiar zeal against infidels ; 
in another, puritanism and methodism. E"o doubt each of 
these originated in pure motives, or at least many of them 
did, but alas! how soon perverted. Wesley was a good 
man ; would that all his so-called followers had more closely 
imitated him ! In our time much is said about high church 
and low church, and I have yet to learn that the low church 
manifests any greater zeal except in talk, (and self-recom- 
mendation is no characteristic of real excellence ;) I have 
yet to find one quality in which low church is superior to 
high church. The more I see of man's ignorance, the more 
I understand the emptiness of names. The more I inquire 
into motives, so much the more cautious am I, against a 
self-constituted righteousness. It was my fortune to be 
born in the Church of England. It has been my fortune to 
live much, among the Methodists and Presbyterians, not as 
belonging to either, but as a low churchman. I have nowhere 
found greater ignorance and more boasting than among the 
Methodists ; I have nowhere found a higher degree of self- 
conceit and stubborn tenacity or bigotry than among the 
Presbyterians ; and, now, from my connection with the 
headquarters of low churchmen, I am constrained to con- 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 83 

fess, I have nowhere, seen so much uncharitableness, self- 
conceit, misunderstanding of others, and ignorance of the 
church to which they pretend to belong — Low Church is 
neither one thing nor another, except Low Church. Not 
enough for the church, too much for a Presbyterian, it 
amounts to nothing. Still, believing as I do, in the all-per- 
vading providence of God, I believe all will yet be overruled 
for good. 

" Many sincere high-toned Christians, have cast their lot 
among the several denominations — many are with high 
church, many with low church. In this world we cannot 
arrive at certainty. All are liable to be deceived. Oh that 
we could all be more charitable ! Could we have more love, 
and less talk, I am sure we should be happier than we are. 
The better I become acquainted with the human heart, the 
more disposed am I to look kindly on all. I cannot believe 
that one man is by nature much worse than another. For 
the positively vicious and unruly, we have jails and state 
prisons. For the morally good, such are the discrepancies 
of language, I cannot believe that one is much better than 
another. Of the truly pious, I cannot readily place most 
confidence in him who urges his pretentions most loudly. 
May God give me grace to examine my own heart, to purify 
my own motives. May his sanctifying and preventing grace, 
ever preside over me, and in my weakness become my 
strength ; in my folly become my wisdom ; and so lead me 
through the chances and changes of this mortal life as that 
I fail not to attain to life everlasting. 

" I embark in the new year with gratitude to God for his 
boundless mercy during the past. Eich and various has 
been the experience of the year now closed. Many have 
been its joys, many have been its cares. May God forgive 
all that I have wrongfully done, and pardon all who have 
done wrong to me. For the last six months I have seemed 
quite alone in the world. I have had no mortal ear into 
which I might pour my confidence. I have had no friend 



84 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

from whose heart was heard the echo of a single sympathy. 
I don't know that I understand what a home feeling is. I 
cannot remember it, only from the mazes of my childhood. 
I know it only through my imagination. I feel, however, 
less restraint at this place, and from the general sympathy 
and kindness which I meet I feel comparatively happy. I 
have seen the lights and shades of bachelor life. There 
is little in it to make us happy, there is little in it to make 
us loved. I have with my friends recently talked much 
about the propriety and expediency of single life to a clergy- 
man. I have seldom expressed my convictions, no one 
longs more for a home ; no one feels more the superiority 
of a married life. 

"January 6, 1856. 
" I have had very little to do to-day, inasmuch as but 
few children could get out to Sunday School. The attend- 
ance was about seventy-five, and this is so small a propor- 
tion, that it gives me scarcely any trouble, so that I am not 
weary this evening. It is a great blessing to have our 
energies taxed I know, because we can grow strong only in 
proportion as we use our strength, but really it is a great 
privilege to have a holiday once in a while, when the spirit 
may throw off" all restraint, and entertain not a care. I 
have enjoyed the service of this day very much, and I 
would like to have my Sundays in which to hear sermons, 
and remain quiet ; but if I had my Sundays entirely to my- 
self, I should not improve them more wisely than most 
Christians do who have them. We never know the value 
of things until we have been deprived of them, and as most 
Christians have ever enjoyed the uninterrupted privileges 
of the Lord's day, so they fail, from their very frequency, 
to set on them a proper estimate. Would that we were 
more mindful of the blessings which a benign Father has 
lavished upon us. 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 85 

" January 9, 1856. 
" Seldom have the citizens of New York seen so much 
snow, or such good sleighing, and much do they seem to 
enjoy it. Horses and sleighs have been in such demand, 
that one could not be hired for less than ten dollars, and 
many being let at fifteen and twenty. In Boston, and all 
New England cities, sleighs are let for two dollars and a 
half. The difference, however, is here : in Boston they 
have sleighing all winter, and people use the sleighs for all 
purposes, and have plenty of them; in New. York they sel- 
dom have more than two or three weeks sleighing, and 
then everybody wishes to ride. There are few sleighs in 
proportion to the number of riders. On Monday and 
Tuesday evenings, Broadway presented a most agreeable 
scene. Sleighs with six and eight horses, carrying from a 
hundred to a hundred and fifty persons, were mingled with 
sleighs of all sizes, down to that with a single horse. In 
these sleighs were the working classes, who cannot get a 
chance to ride in the day time, boys and girls, men and 
women, singing and playing, until Broadway seemed one 
stream of song and happiness. In some sleighs were organ 
grinders, pouring out their music amid all the confusion, 
with the complacency known only to Dutchmen. Some 
of the men were blowing horns, and the boys were making 
noises with penny bugles. Once in a while some barefaced 
woman would be seen driving, and doing it too, to the 
admiration of the crowd. The liveliness of the streets, 
with the glitter of a thousand lamps, the merry tinkling of 
the bells, produced an effect most pleasing, such as I have 
never before seen equalled. There is probably no city in 
the world better lighted than New York. The lamps burn 
all night, whether the moon shines or not. From such a 
picture of happiness, it was sad to turn to the contempla- 
tion of vice and misery, as it would meet one at almost 
every corner. Children half clad and half starved, gazing 
in pitiful silence, on joys they could not taste; men reeling 



86 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

with dissipation to their homes of want. "What a vortex is 
this metropolis ! Death stalks side by side with bustling 
life, and biting poverty treads on the heels of pompous 
wealth. The last degree of feminine degradation stares at 
the delicacy and loveliness of female innocence, and the 
sons of piety are hourly confronted by the children of dark- 
ness. The divine joggles the pick-pocket, and manly vigor 
stumbles over suffering infirmity. Surely this is the con- 
fluence of human extremes. Nor is the diversity greater 
in the physical than in the mental and moral. A thousand 
lanes lead to the shrines of folly, while the avenues to 
virtue, piety, and knowledge are deserted, or little fre- 
quented. 

" January 10, 1856. 
" This has been a profitable and pleasant day to me. I 
have worked hard, and am really quite weary, but I am 
happy. I have enjoyed this day, an unusual flow of Chris- 
tian joy, a sort of consolation, happiness, desire after deeper 
holiness, consciousness of my own unworthiness, more 
ardent desire to accomplish some good, a greater renuncia- 
tion of self, a higher devotion to the service of my Lord. 
I pray for humility, for sincerity, for charity towards my 
neighbor, and conduct consistent with my profession. My 
tongue is apt to lead me into discussion. I am not suffi- 
ciently careful of the feelings of others. The light of thy 
Spirit, Lord ! can alone lead me to the perception of 
truth ! I go out very little, I keep very closely to my 
books, I believe it is better. No student can spend too 
little time in common talk or general company. In social 
gatherings, (New York gatherings,) there is sometimes that 
which is soothing and refining — there is oftener much 
which is trivial, and even silly. I keep at work all the 
time, though I don't seem to accomplish much. When I 
look back on a day's work, I am constrained to admit it 
seems small. When I improve the days, I can see at the 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 87 

close of the week that some progress has been made. I 
find that my teaching an hour and a half a day makes a 
hole in my time for study. This teaching, however, does 
me much good, and beside all that, brings twenty-five dol- 
lars per month to my pocket, which I very much need. I 
have spent nearly two hundred dollars during the last three 
months — I don't know but more than that amount. How- 
ever, I don't throw it away. If I don't get something to 
eat for it, I get books, and they are good things. 

" January 15, 1856. 
" Our systems of education are sadly deficient. , We con- 
tent ourselves with talking too much about the improve- 
ments of the age, and go on making changes, supposing 
change to be improvement. We teach girls much which 
they will never need, and which, therefore, .can do them very 
little good, while we leave them in darkness as to many 
things which even to common sense seem almost indispen- 
sable. We have no great men in the world. When are 
we to have any? The mother makes the man, and who, in 
our times, are making the mothers? Our girls are abso- 
lutely unfitted physically and mentally for performing all 
the functions of a woman. Their bodies are weakened by 
fashion, and their minds are blurred by the follies of a so- 
called education. It is astonishing to see the ignorance of 
many of the ladies of this city. Ceremony and love of 
display have eaten all sincerity from their hearts, and silly 
etiquette supplies the place of common sense. The books 
they read -are the merest trash, while to speak to them of 
standard literature is to speak of something they know 
nothing about, and to introduce a subject foreign to the 
common fooleries of the day is a mark of ill-breeding. I 
may be rather severe, though I think not. I must confess, 
however, that I go comparatively little into society. I can 
get no good by going, why should I go ? Whenever I do 
£0, I come back disgusted and dissatisfied. All is hollow 



88 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

compliment, and real friendship is an empty name. It may^ 
be my taste is vitiated, perchance perverted ; if so, I am 
thankful. I can see young men who go i into society,' and 
what are they worth ? I have a classmate who was once a 
good student, but now having grown fashionable, he is, to 
my certain knowledge, a student only in name. He does 
not read in one week as much as he should read every day ; 
nay, I know not that he does in a month. What on earth 
does he know ? He knows how to talk about the church, 
and how to advocate the practice of going to dancing parties, 
especially when given by Christians. Alas ! for our church 
when her pretended friends are her deadliest foes. Infidels 
may sneer, and ungodly men may look in vain for evidence 
of apostolicity. Beneath the sanctity of her immaculate 
purity lurks the hand which spills her blood. Degenerate 
indeed are the times; but, alas, how degenerate, when the 
heralds of the cross are themselves most deeply infected ! 
If my taste for society is perverted there is then much 
profit in perversion, for I learn vastly more by keeping away 
than I can possibly by mingling with it. I am not so 
polished in my manners it may be, still I find access to 
' good society ' when I choose. By disposition I am taciturn, 
stoical, seclusive. It may be I have not charity enough for 
those whose dispositions are different, perhaps better; still, 
if 'polish' and 'refinement' are to make a man a fool, then I 
would prefer being a ' bore.' I need society, too ; sometimes 
I feel lonely and sad; I sit and think, I read and write, I 
walk and work, I pray and sing, I eat and sleep ; this 
forms my continual round. In all this vast city I have not 
a friend to whom I can open my soul, nor have I in the 
world. In this seminary I know of no two who are inti- 
mate. No one has a bosom companion. I have never seen 
a number k of students together before among whom there 
was so little in common. We never meet together except 
at prayer time, and then we say nothing to each other. 
There are students whom I have known to be students only 






THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 89* 

from sometimes seeing them with others. A prayer meet- 
ing was never heard of, and if it ever w T as, it has long since 
been forgotten. The very idea of a missionary meeting 
would frighten half of them, and he who should propose 
such a thing, would be considered a heretic. 

" January 27, 1856. 
" It excites my sympathies very much to go into my Sun- 
day school, and see there so many of the poor, needy, and 
outcast. Doubtless many come there simply for the clothes 
with which we furnish them, and not for any love for Christ 
and His religion ; still it is well they come, we are willing to 
give them all we can, and this affords a degree of access 
not attainable by any other means, and the truths they hear 
might sink into their hearts, and bring forth in them the 
fruits of good living when we are dead. I am not sure 
that all my teachers are exactly what Sunday school teachers 
should be. Many young persons become teachers in Sun- 
day schools from a sort of consciousness that they ought to 
be doing something, and when they have connected them- 
selves with some class, think this to be meeting all their 
duty. They lack that zeal, love, interest, and sympathy, 
without which no Sunday school teacher may hope to be 
successful. Without a real Christian heart themselves, how 
can they expect in the hearts of their children to infuse a 
love for the Gospel ? These half Christian teachers are 
often worse than none. They come only when it is conve- 
nient, they come early only when it suits them. They are- 
poor workers, and often entail not a little trouble on 
others who do their own work better. Some teachers, too, 
act from other motives. People are too much pleased with 
names, and persons who are destitute of piety, still like to 
be considered pious. A Sunday school opens up the way 
for a reputation. I am unwilling to impeach the motive of 
any man, but actions will speak louder than words. In my 
school I have many pious, self-denying, faithful teachers.. 



'90 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

I would they were all so. I would not complain. I am 
happy that so many come from whatever motive, but for 
their own sake I would they were all Christians indeed. 



" Waverly, K Y., April 23, 1855. 
" Weary and lonely, in a solitary place, I sit down to re- 
view briefly the events of this day. After a whole day of 
travel and excitement one feels very little like concentrating 
his mind, but rather inclined to seek repose. At present, 
however, my couch is not very inviting, and the good people 
of this little town retire so early it is a wonder they can 
sleep till morning. I arose this morning at five, hurried 
down town, took breakfast, purchased my ticket, and took 
the cars at seven. The Erie road, as everybody knows, is 
not the best in the world, nor is the class of passengers 
with which one here meets, the most refined. Borne, how- 
ever, from the dusty din of a great city, a man takes pleasure 
in gazing on the beauties of nature and wrapping himself 
in the mantle of his own thoughts. Naturally taciturn and 
cold, fond of seclusion, and the panoramas of my own 
imagination, I never fail to enjoy a long ride on the cars. 
With me were travelers far less happy than I. On faces 
pensive and care-worn could be read the thoughts which 
were sending their vibrations to the heart, and an occasional 
tear told of tender memories, and a sorrow with which no 
stranger may intermeddle. The voices of dear ones left 
behind, were ringing in retentive ears, and the vicissitudes 
of untried and far western homes were sending their 
shadows long before, to thicken the gloom which had 
already gathered around anxious minds. I saw one lady 
who wept nearly the whole day. With many others, were 
thoughts only of joys^ — from trips of pleasure they were 
returning to homes of comfort. In their busy imaginations 
arms of love were already extended to receive them. What 
to them were all the woes of the world beside ? Why 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 91 

should they borrow heaviness because others could not 
share their bliss? In man there is always a natural ten- 
dency to compare himself with whatever he sees in others ; 
I therefore thought of my own situation. I looked back- 
ward and forward, how different the prospect ! Perchance, 
among all the hundreds then collected on that train, the 
circumstances of no other were like mine. No eye had 
that day recognized me. No voice had that day bid me 
* God speed.' Not a heart would be less happy at my 
absence, nor would a single sigh awake in any heart for my 
return. When I reached my destination no face would 
grow glad in greeting me, in no spirit should I kindle a 
kind and genial sympathy. I roam along, ' the world's 
weary denizen, with none who bless me, few whom I may 
bless.' Without a home, to throw around me its benign and 
soothing influence ; without a friend, to regard me with a 
real affection — how can I be otherwise than cold, and from 
long habits of self-reliance, why should I not be considered 
selfish ? Like the rafts on yonder river I float along on the 
bosom of contingency, and had I not a high and sacred 
purpose to guide me, did not the Spirit of a beneficent God 
sustain me, were I not buoyed up by the hope of achieving 
some good in the world — how had I long ago been swept 
upon the shallows of vice and folly, and become a hideous 
wreck ! How careful and charitable we should be, in form- 
ing our estimate of individual merit ! How little do we 
know of antecedents ! One human heart is not much 
worse than another. Many a spirit born for nobleness, has 
by unkindness been chilled into obscurity- or ignominy, 
because left alone to buffet a blind and relentless world. 
Not every man is endowed with that force of will which 
teaches him to laugh at petty obstacles, and nerves him to 
grapple with great and real difficulty. None who look on 
me as reckless and lukewarm know aught of the long 
train of trial which has driven me into myself, and brought 
home to my heart the ever present consciousness that I am 



92 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

indeed alone. Yet how much better is my situation than 
that of many by whom I am surrounded. Alone it may 
be; but in my loneliness, even, there is inspiration. 

u From cogitations such as these, I turned to observe the 
characters of those with whom I journeyed, so far as those 
characters were written in their features, and alternately 
to the works of nature spread before me, in bounding 
streams, mountains still capped with the drifted snow, and 
valleys vocal with the voice of the ploughman and the song 
of early birds. Beside me was a little sharp-nosed junk- 
bottle sort of a man from Ohio. With him, I exchanged 
many remarks, and found him not deficient in general 
intelligence. Like all Ohio men, he was a good advocate 
for schools where both sexes mingle, and had a great many 
opinions, which he could not very well define. Like Ohio 
men, too, he was kind in his disposition, and was always in 
a good humor. That poor woman still kept crying, though 
she evidently tried to stop. About half-past one, fifteen 
minutes were given us in which to get dinner. It is rather 
astonishing how fast a man can eat, when he has paid his 
fifty cents, and expects every minute to hear the engine 
bell. After a severe shaking, for this road is extremely 
rough, I got out at Waverly about four o'clock. 

" After supper I took a short walk, saw several wood- 
piles, and very modest damsels, returned to the bar-room, 
and took a seat by the fire, just like all the other loafers. 
Here, I tried to adapt myself to the company. I have 
often found that some useful things can be gathered from 
men such as usually haunt a country tavern, that is, when 
there is no drinking. These men are rude, 'tis true, but in 
them are genuine, honest hearts, and one gains by convers- 
ing with them, a facility for approaching this class of men, 
which every one does not possess, and an acquaintance with 
every phase of human nature is desirable. A person may 
find many opportunities for imparting instruction, and 
throwing out useful hints, provided it be done naturally, 






THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 93 

and in no patronizing air, for these men are peculiarly sen- 
sitive. I know it requires a certain tact to do this, and I 
am persuaded that clergymen often lose chances for impart- 
ing religious knowledge because they know not how to 
approach men. The only way by which this tact may be 
acquired is by throwing one's self right among them, which 
a clergyman cannot do, and. unless he gain it while young, 
he is not likely to gain it at all. I observed a sort of shy- 
ness when I entered. My appearance probably indicated 
my calling. Of their fears I soon disarmed them. Among 
them was a young man of uncommon intelligence, on his 
way to the West, to practice law. Soon the conversation 
was confined to us, and all the rest sat quietly, for an hour 
or more, and listened. At first I talked about horses, cows, 
and hogs with them, until I secured their attention to some- 
thing better. Thus the evening has worn away. 

"Towanda, Sunday, April 27, 1856. 
" This has been a tranquil country Sabbath. There is 
something sweet in the ringing of the church bell. I often 
call to mind the language of those poetic minds, which 
passed away before the coming of our generation. Shen- 
stone, Cowper, Young, and others, into whose spirits the 
bell which called them to prayer, sent a thrill of reverential 
joy. Our morning services were not very largely attended, 
though the congregation seemed intelligent and refined. 
In the afternoon I was invited to address the Sunday School. 
This school is a credit to the church. In it are upwards of 
one hundred children, and these children have contributed 
to missions and other works of love, during the year, nearly 
fifty dollars. The school seems to be in excellent order. It 
is the result of long and patient labor on the part of one 
man, and he is a layman. What beauty and excellency 
there is in Christian consistency ! How many of us more 
gifted than this man, still come far short of him in devo- 
tion and piety ! How much good he has done me, even 



94 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

within these few days ! Oh ! that every clergyman had 
such a Christian to hold up his hands ! I am told by those 
who know, and my own observation informs me, that he 
not only gives of his worldly goods, but gives much and 
often, where his left hand knows not what his right hand 
does. I cannot express my admiration for such a character. 
How much one man can do ! What an example have we 
here of that fortitude which dignifies and ennobles man ! 
Here by his instrumentality were young men and women,. 
studying the word of God, who, without him, would have 
been lolling at home, lounging about the hotel, or, per- 
chance, engaged in amusements at once unmanly and 
degenerating. In my address to the children I endeavored 
to hold up such a character, of course without reference to 
him. I spoke to them more earnestly, because my own soul 
was stirred by thoughts of him. Behold the reciprocal 
influence of any good or evil. Is there not in this an argu- 
ment for doing the most good one can to himself, with 
whatever facilities Providence has placed in his hands, irre- 
spective of his independent and collateral duty to his 
neighbor ? 

" ' There is no place like home.' Even with my little 
retreat, which I call a home, I can feel it were good to be 
there. To be sure I am happy where I am, and to me, 
why should one spot of this little orb be more happy than 
another ? Yet, when weary and pensive, the spirit sighs for 
the familiar haunts ; and though at my solitary home in 
New York not a heart would be there to radiate a sympa- 
thy, nor a voice to respond even a whisper of love, yet 
there would be some relief in simply looking on the well- 
known place, and resting on my own couch. Thankful for 
all the mercies of God, rejoicing that I may do something 
for His glory, praying that I may be sustained by His grace, 
and made obedient to His will, I commit myself to His 
keeping. 



the general theological seminary. 95 

" April 28, 1856. 
" I started early this morning* in company with Rev. Mr. 
D. We journeyed along, stopping at every house, conversing 
with the inmates, selling books whenever we could. Our 
road lay along the mountains, sometimes for miles on the 
very brink of precipices, down which, to have fallen would 
have been instant death. These roads are very poorly con- 
structed, they are so narrow that in many places they will 
scarcely accommodate a single wagon. They are not pro- 
tected at the side at all. With such a horse as we had, our 
necks were certainly not safe. I have been rather amused 
since at the coolness with which I allowed Mr. D. to take 
care of that horse, while I went to throwing stones and 
amusing myself with the scenery, which was very grand, 
especially the mountains. We sold books to the amount of 
two dollars and a half, not enough to pay for the horse. 
Occasionally there would be a place of some refinement 
and intelligence. About noon, a very kind lady observing 
that I was quite weary, insisted on my taking some dinner,, 
for which she would not take a penny, but made many 
excuses for having nothing better. 

" Greenwood, April 29th. 

" I left the sweet little home of Mr. early this morn- 
ing. Happy indeed ought that man to be. His wife seems 
to me to be exactly what a minister's wife ought to be. 
The influence of such a wife is cheering to her husband, 
and vastly beneficial to the flock over which he presides. 
Such a position is one from which much good may radiate, 
and a woman of true piety, and high spirit, must rejoice in 
the opportunities thus placed at her command. 

" Much talk is made in certain quarters, about the poor 
pay of the clergy, and poor clergymen are loudest in their 
complaints. According to my observation, which has not 
been very limited, I have found the pay of clergymen, with 
one or two exceptions, equal to their deserts. It is a law 



96 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

of nature, that man should be rewarded according to what 
he does, not according to what he might do. God has 
made few men of very extraordinary calibre, and few men 
do as much as their abilities would demand. If we say that 
some men with small salaries, do vastly more than some 
with very good salaries, I think it will be found that those 
on the one hand are not underpaid so much as those on the 
other are overpaid. We must either pay men for what 
they never perform, or else pay them according to their 
respective merits, and who is to judge as to their merits ? 
The Bishop cannot hire out his clergy, as men hire out 
machines, according to their horse-power, for the one-horse 
machine would not stand it. There is but one alternative, 
and that is for the people who hire them to pronounce how 
much they are worth. That there is a seeming unfairness 
is palpable, but we are all commanded to count the cost. 
Should we pay them for what they never perform, we 
should be under such a system as that existing in England, 
under which men revel in luxurious living, who, thrown on 
their own resources could scarcely earn a subsistence. 
Under such a system as ours, many men will get small 
salaries. Under the one system, men destitute of real piety, 
resort thither for a gentlemanly profession, and these men 
cannot be efficient ministers of the Gospel. Under the 
other, the church will need men, but such as she has, will 
be likely to be what they should be. It is true, under this 
system, unworthy men find an entrance, at the same time 
they are dependent on their own merits. Nor is it true 
that ministers are worse paid than men of other professions. 
There are hundreds of "physicians who depend on their 
friends for bread, or go without it ; and hundreds of lawyers, 
who are tilling the soil, or practicing respectable fraud. 
Should all our ministers receive large salaries, our church 
would be filled with the merest parasites and the people of 
our country would be complaining, as the people of England 
now complain. Let the English church sever her connec- 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 97 

tion with the State, and that event will be the harbinger of 
rich prosperity. Some men may not be paid as they deserve, 
but this is even as it should be. The Church of Christ is not 
all loaves and fishes, and her best recommendation is the 
self-denial of the clergy. Men at best are reluctant to 
attend to their spiritual interests, and not unfrequently do 
we find the selfishness of the clergy an excuse for their 
negligence. I believe the state of things at present exist- 
ing, is that to which the church has been guided by her 
Omnipotent Head, and she is vastly better off as she is. It 
may be that the faith of these latter days is to be tested, as 
was that of the primitive Christians. Their ordeal was 
severe. Ours may be more severe still. We have the 
accumulated experience of eighteen hundred years ; we 
have, therefore, more light. In the midst of a wicked and 
perverse generation like our own, there is need that the 
Church of Christ be made more prominent, separate, and 
peculiar. It is true some of our ministers are poorly paid, 
but it is equally true some of them are very indifferent men. 
These same men, in any other vocation, would be no better 
off, and many of them not half so comfortably situated. In 
some of them, the mechanic arts have sustained a loss, and 
many an honest cobbler is officiating in canonicals. We 
may pity these poor men, but I am afraid, with all our pity, 
we cannot relieve. Yet what is a clerg} 7 man without a 
wife ? What would this friend be without his ? Surely, he 
ought to be a happy man, and no doubt he is. He has much 
over which to rejoice. I left his home this morning with a 
very kind and gentle horse to take me into the country. I 
stopped at every house as I journeyed, having something to 
say to all whom I met. I found the children more intelli- 
gent than their parents, but the parents very inferior beings. 
My experience this day corroborates my remark upon yes- 
terday, that it were better to save the money expended in 
sending colporteurs to purchase books for gratuitous distri- 
bution, which books could easily be distributed, by the 



98 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

clergy, as they pass along from place to place; thus the 
tastes of the young would be cultivated. I journeyed all 
day without selling a book. I used all the persuasion of 
which I was capable, but to no purpose. I was never so 
deeply impressed with the evil of universalism as now. 
What encouragement is there to any man striving for their 
good ? I am gaining an experience which is fully worth 
all I am paying for it. It requires self-denial and decision 
to work in this way, but how much do I owe to my efforts 
in this direction for that knowledge of human nature which 
so often gives me the advantage over my companions in 
years? What vicissitudes have I not seen ? Where is the 
man who has worked harder ? At present my arms and 
legs pain me, and my whole body feels stiff. I took a 
severe cold yesterday, and I am now so hoarse I can hardly 
speak. I am at the house of a lady, in a very retired, 
though beautiful spot. A railroad is in process of con- 
struction near this place, and this lady keeps boarders. 
With her, at present, boards the chief engineer — a man of 
learning and genius. Her conversation, after all the rude- 
ness and ignorance, with which I have met to-day, brings 
with it a soothing and happy influence. Thus I am never 
without some token of God's goodness to me. 

" Le Koy, April SOth. 
"I "am this morning feeling badly from the effect of 
excessive labor yesterday. When the bell rung for us to 
get up, it seemed as though I could not rise, but I managed 
by extra exertion, to get out of bed and dress in time 
for breakfast. Mrs. 1ST. seemed kind, and I was introduced 
by her to several of her friends, who purchased some few 
books. About the middle of the forenoon I took my horse 
and started for Le Roy. I called along at all the houses, 
but could sell no books. I found the people poor and igno- 
rant. They seem desirous of doing all they can for their 
children, but consider anything beyond bread and clothes 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 99 

as altogether superfluous, About noon, I stopped at a 
house and got some dinner. I dined amid tin pans and 
kettles, with the noise of a saw mill rattling in mj ears. I 
took my horse from the buggy, watered and fed him, I 
waited some little time resting, then harnessed him, and 
renewed my journey. I think I have never before taken 
care of a horse, nor harnessed one unassisted ; I undertook 
to put one in a buggy once, and broke the shaft. These 
people will not take a cent for food or lodging or anything 
of the kind, provided they understand who they are enter- 
taining. I met with no better success during the afternoon 
than during the morning. The roads, over which I have 
this day passed, are very bad indeed. Sometimes the way 
lay along the edge of steep cliffs ; at others along the mar- 
gin of the stream. Sometimes through deep ravines, where 
the rocks overhang to a fearful height, and through which, 
the waters, impatient of their narrow bed, roared and 
foamed in impetuous grandeur ; — sometimes over large 
stones, from which the freshet of the spring had swept all 
the soil. Almost at every turn, a saw-mill greeted me. 
Hundreds of pine logs were collected at various stations, 
ready to be conveyed to the mill. The men of this region 
make their living chiefly by the lumber business, for their 
farms are neglected and all their notions of agriculture 
seem very limited. 

" Towanda, May 4th. 
" This has been a day of quiet rest. It being the first 
Sunday in the month, the communion was administered at 
the church. The impression stamped on all the exercises 
of this day was that of a desire to despatch them as soon 
as possible. No wonder many accuse us of formalism, since 
our sublime liturgy is so often divested of all life, and noth- 
ing appears but the distorted form. When the minister has 
no soul, the congregation will surely sympathize with him. 
Some ministers are destitute of all tact. In urging their 



100 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

flock to any course of action, they drive them from it. Men 
must have confidence in their guide before they will easily 
be led. I again addressed the children of the Sunday 
school to-day; there is a lack of that freedom and familiarity 
which lends so much interest to Sunday schools. Perhaps 
it is a fault, common to those in the country, where there 
are but few children, and when there is seldom sufficient 
interest to keep them all wide awake. Here they have not 
singing enough. Singing is an important exercise ; in this 
all the children meet on common ground, and in this they 
are, as to capacity, equal. The influence of singing is 
soothing, at the same time stimulating. I am fond of talk- 
ing to children, though I feel it is not easy at all times to 
interest them. They will not listen when they are not 
entertained. They are not so indulgent as older audiences. 
I have endeavored to perform the duties of this day to the 
best of my ability. I would I could do more. Men are 
reckless, what can be done to awaken them to a sense of 
duty ? Oh ! that Christians would remember that they are 
responsible individually — not collectively ! 

" New York, May 9th. 
" I have traveled nearly three hundred miles to-day, and 
am thankful to be once more in my own room. 

" Gen. Seminary, May 16th. 
" This has been a dull, rainy, clay. My health will not 
allow me to study more than two hours at a time, nor will 
it allow me to repeat these two hours often. Unless I 
study, or do something more than walk about, I feel as 
though the time were wasted. Yesterday morning I went 
to High Bridge. It certainly is a magnificent structure, 
and, next to the suspension bridge at Niagara, is the great- 
est achievement of art to be found in the country. New 
York will, in a few years, be not only one of the largest 
cities in the world, but at the same time one of the wealth- 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 101 

iest and most magnificent. Even now, in many respects, it 
is unrivaled. We have not the galleries of art and exten- 
sive museums which adorn so many countries of Europe, 
but which must be the work of centuries. We have not 
those grand and time-honored castles, the production of 
ages long since passed away ; but we have no need of 
them, and the monuments we have, reflect vastly more 
honor upon the institutions of the country, and upon 
humanity at large. Instead of mouldering palaces, the 
favorite haunts of a long line of lazy leeches, who lived on 
the blood of the land without returning a fair equivalent, 
we have magnificent structures open alike to all who please 
to avail themselves of them. All our treasures are those 
of peace, and everywhere we find the pledge of a common 
love, light, and liberty. We do not depreciate other coun- 
tries because we appreciate our own. We do not suppose 
our country to have attained perfection. We do not assert 
that all other countries have sunk' to darkness and slavery. 
We can see very many sad deficiencies, and desire much to 
see many more refinements. The deficiencies can be recti- 
fied only by time, and refinements are every day deepening 
and multiplying. We are not anxious to follow the advice 
of every ignorant foreigner who chooses to visit us. When 
men object to things because the} 7 are different from those of 
their own country, they only render themselves ridiculous; 
and we should peruse many books of modern objections to 
this country before we found a better reason. The follies 
of certain classes are palpable, and yet they are perfectly 
natural. When a man becomes suddenly rich he cannot 
be expected to appreciate his wealth, or rather, he knows 
not how to use it. To the vast majority, wealth is desirable 
only on account of its glitter. To the human eye the fasci- 
nations of external pomp have ever been most attractive. 
Having, therefore, little notion of the importance or 
responsibility connected with great gain, they indulge in 
vanities which, to a philosopher, are ridiculous, and which, 



102 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

to men long used to opulence, seem vulgar. The result is 
only that for which we should have been prepared. Our 
country is in a transition state. Society is not yet estab- 
lished on any permanent basis, and long centuries must yet 
roll away before the moral and domestic phases of Ameri- 
can life will be fixed. Hundreds of men are daily leaping 
from obscurity and poverty to influence and fortune. Daz- 
zled by their own success they must needs prove that they 
know not what to do with their money. Large houses 
stored with books and works of art, which they know 
nothing more about than that they paid great prices for 
them; elegant chariots with splendid horses, servants in 
livery, and personal decorations — these are all of which 
they have any notion. The moneyed classes are by no means 
our refined and educated classes. Perchance this will 
account for the misrepresentations which have been so fre- 
quently made of the American people. Visitors from 
European countries are totally unable to divest themselves 
of themselves when they cross the water. Each, from 
whatever country he may come, reduces at once everything 
to that standard to which the chance of birth has reduced 
him. He has ever seen the moneyed classes and the edu- 
cated classes identical ; and more than that, has always 
looked for the money first. He is ignorant of the fact that 
here the rule is inverted, nor does he care to be enlight- 
ened; but wrapping himself in his ignorance is admired 
only by those as ignorant as he. The educated of this 
country can smile at the foolishness of the wealthy, as well 
as foreigners, and we do not care to have them telling us 
continually what we have long since known. I believe 
that many of them find themselves in better company than 
that to which they have been accustomed, and not unfre- 
quently do they draw from their imagination instead of 
their experience. When the present generation has passed 
away a vast improvement will be palpable. Thousands 
will have become accustomed to their wealth. They who 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 103 

iave built our palaces, and they who are still building 
them, have no time for acquiring knowledge, but to their 
children's children will come results of which we have few 
conceptions. It cannot be charged upon the American 
people that they are ignorant. As a people not one in the 
world can surpass them in general intelligence. It is 
admitted by the English that many of the first scholars of 
the age belong to the United States. No department of 
literature has produced more eminent men, during the 
present century, than those produced in America. In his- 
tory, philosophy and poetry, we certainly are not behind 
England, and in some of the arts we are superior. Ameri- 
can energy has secured to New York city the finest collec- 
tion of Egyptian antiquities in the world, and the researches 
of Abbott in Egypt, equal those of Layard at Ninevah. It 
is much to be regretted that our Government, as a Govern- 
ment, takes so little interest in matters scientific. Yet 
from this fact flows additional credit to our county. Any 
man will work when he is well paid for it, or spend Ins 
money when he is sure of receiving a fair equivalent in 
return. Layard could not have done otherwise, having the 
Treasury of the British nation to sustain him. It is a 
wonder that Abbott worked at all, having simply the 
resources of a private fortune. Our galleries of art are not 
the offerings of selfish potentates to conciliate the favor of 
a pillaged people, nor have we had the recesses of centu- 
ries, from which to draw rich accessions. These galleries 
are the willing contributions of private generosity, and 
future munificence, combining with the revolutions of ages, 
may yet deposit here the spoils of the Louvre and the 
treasures of British museums. 

" June 16th. 
iC I have to-day paid Messrs. M. & Co., fifty dollars. 
This reduces my debt to them one hundred. The money 
which Mrs B. gave me on Saturday, she expected I would 



104 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

spend in enjoying my vacation. She gave it for this pur- 
pose, but with a debt hanging over a man, he can't always 
feel like taking things easy, so I prefer to pay fifty dollars 
toward reducing my debt, and keep forty to put with some 
that Dr. T. will give me for vacation. 

" Smithtown, L. I., July 11, 1856. 
" How quickly do our days revolve ! Morning, noon, 
night — how rapid the succession ! Every day a step nearer 
the arena of life, nearer the end of our pilgrimage below ! 
With how little care are many of these days improved, and 
with how little immortal good are many of them fraught ! 
Such were some of the reflections with which I returned to 
my resting place last evening. During the day I had taken 
a long journey. I went with religious tracts and books 
for gratuituous distribution among the scattered poor of 
this parish. I took a lonely route ; I did not feel well 
during the morning, and but for the loneliness and extreme 
monotony of my boarding place, had not ventured from 
home ; I conversed freely with the people in their retired 
homes, and everywhere was kindly received. Towards 
noon I found myself very weary, and was still far from 
home. In stopping at a certain place, I inquired as usual 
if there were any destitute families in the vicinity. In 
reply to my inquiries I was informed that there was a family 
resident about a mile and a half from them, 'the last house 
out on the beach.' I shrunk from the thought, for this 
would add three miles more to my journey, and I already 
wished myself at rest. I never turn from any prospect of 
doing good, or from any part of an undertaking while I 
have any strength. ' The last house on the beach ' I 
repeated to myself. I must go there. I turned away from 
the woman in the direction she pointed. There was not 
exactly a road, but a sort of lane, and I followed it. As 
I walked along I revolved that text in my mind which 
says ' there remaineth a rest for the people of God.' I 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 105 

remembered ' He went about continually doing good,' and 
the inward consciousness that I was desirous of following 
my Master, whether I succeeded or not, brought to my 
heart a peculiar joy. I did not feel so weary. Just then 
I turned my eye and beheld under a tree, in one of the 
recesses of a zig-zag fence, a very aged man. At first I 
was a little startled. I paused and addressed him, I soon 
took a seat beside him as he began to tell me his story. He 
was very poor, and was then engaged in mending an old 
coat. He was more than eighty years of age, and for five 
years had not been able to work. He now lived with his 
son who was poor, but made out to get along by means of 
his farm. He spoke of the kindness of his neighbors, 
but he was now so old he did not like to trouble them. 
He was then watching some cattle which he had driven 
up the lane to pasture, and was waiting till it should 
be time to drive them home. There was much in the old 
man's manner and tone which affected me. He spoke of 
heaven, his home ; how he longed to be there ; how willing 
he was to wait until God took him. I made many inquiries ; 
I asked if he ever suffered for want of anything. Some- 
times he did, but by saying nothing he could get along 
without it, ' only that pain in his stomach.' As my custom 
is, I carried a small bottle of medicine in my pocket. From 
what the old man told me I thought there could be nothing 
better for him, and I gave it to him. I told him how to use it. 
I gave him a little money. I can never forget the blessing 
of the poor old man. He said he was too unworthy. He 
was sure I was no man from that part of the country, 
God had sent me there to relieve him. How should I be 
rewarded ? He spoke of Jesus and the cup of cold water. 
He told me that morning and evening he would pray for 
me ; he gave me his blessing, and called me the ' poor man's 
friend.' Ten thousand pens could not record my joy. 
Many a poor man's blessing I have received, but never 
aught like this. We spoke still of our Saviour and the 



106 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

mansions of the blessed, and while he still blessed me I 
departed. Oh ! thought I, as I turned, so much blessedness 
purchased by a walk and a few shillings, surely God had 
that day directed my steps. How rich, how deep, how full 
was my happiness ! How often have I spent ten times that 
amount of money in endeavoring to give pleasure to some 
one much respected or dearly loved, for which effort I have 
received a simple acknowledgment, in which was pleasure 
but leaving the heart not satisfied ; which won a smile, not 
a prayer; which, a single day, a frown, a little slight, might 
forever annihilate. But here is a pleasure not contingent, 
not transient, speaking of Jesus and reaching heavenward. 
I can still hear the old man's question ' who will reward 
you ?' How little does he know how much I have in trust, 
that woe is unto me if I keep back one jot or tittle. ' To 
whom much is given, of him shall much be required.' 
4 Who will reward you V he who giveth a cup of cold water 
shall not be without his reward. God might have sent me 
to bless the old man, but in sending me he doubly rewarded 
me. 

" Gen. Sem., Sunday, August 10th. 
"•Little did I think I should be in New York to-night, 
where last I saw my journal. Man may appoint, God fre- 
quently disappoints. It had been my intention to start for 
Connecticut, to visit a friend there, and, in company with 
him, to visit Newport, Providence, and Boston, to return 
about the second week of September. Suddenly I was 
prostrated by a very violent attack of dysentery. For some 
two or three days I battled against it here in the seminary, 
assisted only by my physician. A friend hearing of my 
sickness came to visit me, and finding me extremely ill, 
insisted on carrying me to her house ; and, perhaps to her 
kindness, under Providence, I am indebted for my life. 
For many days I continued in a very precarious condition, 
and one week ago to-night my friends were much alarmed 






THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 107 

'Concerning me. On Monday I began to amend, and to- 
night I am strong enough to write a little. How much I 
have suffered I can never tell. How near I have been to 
the gates of death I do not know. God has been to me 
very merciful. I would I were able to express the sum of 
my feelings to-night ! Since I was a child I have seldom 
been sick, and at no time till now have I been dangerously 
ill. I have had the care of many sick persons. I have 
moved among a variety of diseases, but have always escaped. 
I have been far from my home many times, and had I, at 
certain intervals, been attacked, must have suffered. But 
now, though the seminary is deserted, though so many of 
my friends are away from the city, yet has God raised me 
up a friend and a place in which to receive every kindness. 
May God evermore bless Mrs. R., and reward her accord- 
ing to her works. My sickness left me destitute of strength, 
and never before have I experienced the pain of weakness. 
For some days I could not move about, and now I am but 
barely able to walk. By degrees, however, I am gaining. 
To Thee, God ! the source of every blessing, let my 
thanks and praises ascend, and be pleased to accept, as a 
sacrifice to Thee, the life Thou hast so tenderly preserved. 

"New York, August 14, 1856. 
" When the heart is sad, and the spirit oppressed with a 
sense of its own loneliness, every employment seems insipid. 
There are times when the soul of itself throws off its cares, 
and becomes buoyant and happy. There are others, when 
melancholy mantles every thought, and gloom alone is 
made desirable. At these intervals of despondency, when a 
cloud obscures the future, when no voice of sympathy is 
near to break the spell, when the cold world, and all which 
time can at best offer seems worthless and unworthy the 
care of an immortal being, how great are the temptations 
to desist, to lie down with the common herd, to be satisfied 
with the simple gratification of the present, to have no 



108 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

solicitude above the mere animal, and leave the spiritual to 
sink to absolute stagnation. At such a time the soul seems 
disarmed, surprised, helpless. Fears which had never been 
anticipated cast their long, deep shadows around it, and 
unmanly misgivings proclaim it a coward. 

" Gen. Sem., September 17th. 

" More than a month ago I penned the above page. 
Taken sick while I was writing, I was unable to proceed, 
and the next day went into the country, whence I have but 
just returned. What I was about to write I do not now 
remember. I suppose I was greatly depressed at the time, 
caused by the disordered state of my health, and was only 
about to give expression to some of my melancholy cogita- 
tions. 

" From ISTew York I went to Troy. There I was met by 
a friend, who conveyed me to his house, where I was kindly 
and abundantly provided for. For about a week I continued 
ill, but when I did begin to grow better I rapidly recovered. 
I am much indebted to the good people who took care of 
me, and I shall endeavor not to forget it. After I had 
gained sufficient strength, I took frequent journeys into the 
country adjacent, with which I was much pleased. Troy is 
associated in my mind with other days and other circum- 
stances. It was the first city, except New York, at which 
I stopped after my arrival in this country, now nearly ten 
years ago. Then I was a poor, friendless boy, without 
money, without employment, with no other fortune than 
my youth and my health. With little or no education, 
my prospects were anything but favorable. I was on my 
way to Saratoga, simply accompanying a wealthy uncle. 
I returned to this city alone, with my unaided energies to 
carve for myself a destiny. When I stood there and looked 
back upon the track of years, I could identify every step of 
my progress, though the interval had left little resemblance 
between the boy and the man. Varied associations came 



THE GENERAL THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 109 

clustering home. The uncle who then was with me has 
long since passed away. Slowly I have moved onward, and 
at no time has my course been downward. Already I am 
higher than my boyish anticipations had carried me, and 
now my prospects are not obscured. 

" In one of my rambles I entered the cemetery of Albany, 
situated between that city and Troy. This cemetery is second 
only to Greenwood. I have nowhere seen such a variety of 
scenery, and such general good taste. Hill and dale so 
happily succeed each other, as in the general, to produce an 
effect highly pleasing. Monuments, trees, and fountains, 
in turn, challenge the admiration of the beholder, while 
the water, rushing through frequent ravines, dark and 
deep, sheds over the whole a rich solemnity in admirable 
harmony with the character of the place. * * I intended 
to mention before a piece of remarkable fortune which over- 
took me in the early part of vacation. During the past 
year I became acquainted with a lady who manifested a 
great interest in my welfare. She is now an old lady ; the 
sister of John Jay, a distinguished statesman. This lady, 
during the year, learned that I had been endeavoring to 
educate myself, and by inquiry, found that I had incurred 
some debt. During the year she generously gave me more 
than a hundred dollars, and not long since she added to 
this the sum of three hundred and seventy-five dollars, an 
amount very nearly equal to that of my indebtedness, leav- 
ing me now only about thirty dollars still to pay. I cannot 
express my emotions when the check was placed in my 
hands. I was taken quite by surprise. To say that I am 
thankful is to say very little. I feel grateful to her, and 
recognize in her the medium through whom a kind Provi- 
dence has been pleased to bless me. May God bless her, 
.and reward her according to her works." 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 



It was in April, 1869, that Mr. Perinchief entered upon 
his duties in Philadelphia, as Secretary of the Evangelical 
Education Society. He remained there until the following 
November, when, because of many distasteful experiences, 
he resigned, and accepted a call to " The Memorial Church " 
in Baltimore. During his sojourn in Philadelphia, he kept 
the journals already mentioned in which he recorded 
not only his daily transactions, but many comments upon 
what he saw and heard as a business official of the church. 
From this manuscript I have culled such passages, (and they 
bear a small proportion to the whole,) as I thought might 
with propriety be published, and they will form the sub- 
stance of the present chapter. 

" April 19, 1869. 
" Entered upon my duties at 1224 Chestnut Street, to- 
day, imploring the divine presence with me, and blessing 
upon me. 

" April 20th. 
" Had a talk relative to society matters. Young men 
taken too young. The boys in the preparatory department 
do not know their minds, have no mind in fact to know. 
They are easily influenced — change their opinions, and it 
turns out at last we educate young men for the high church 
party. We are allowing them to cultivate habits of extrava- 
gance, unfitting them for the work they ought to do, both 
immediately and remotely. I fear we are not selecting men 
with reference to their brain power. There is a sickly 
feeling among Christians that anything human is good 



112 OCTAVIUS PERLNCHIEF. 

enough to preach, hut until we get more brains in the pulpit, 
we must be content to see the church the arena of every 
folly and weakness, — impotent in herself and laughed at or 
let alone by the world. 

" April 22d. 

"Had another talk about clergymen and churches and 
rich men. The clergy cringing and servile, selfish and 
obsequious. One of them writing to a rich man the other 
day, ' thanking God that he lived in the same time.' In view 
of the ignorance and unculture of the church and the 
oppressiveness of wealth, I have often felt, and often said, 
it is a wonder the church lives at all. It is strange, in all our 
hair-splitting, we do not inquire what conversion is, or what 
is the value of such conversion as ours ? What is the differ- 
ence between our ambition and pride, and those of worldly 
men ? We varnish ours over with a talk about the glory of 
God, which means in ninety-nine mouths out of a hundred, 
nothing at all good. 

" The fashions of this world are a sin against every law of 
sincerity, humility, modesty, and honesty ; I know not but all 
virtue. In the first place, I cannot think a truly wise man 
can accumulate an inordinate fortune. Great wealth is as 
unnatural as great poverty, and far more dangerous. I 
would not be under the dominion of such laws as govern 
so-called Christian society, for a million of worlds. The 
servants of a rich man are his masters. But be that as it 
may, if a man is fool enough to be a slave, let him — but 
why should we call the pomps and vanities of wealth, in 
any sense, Christian ? Why should we call the hollowness 
and show and costliness of affluence — civilization ? What- 
ever ignores heart and mind, cannot be wise. We talk of 
Christian civilization. The thing has never been known; 
such a civilization is wholly a thing of the future. What 
righteousness would do for our race, we do not know, for 
we have never tried it. * * * The Saviour went to 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 113 

feasts, but he brought the feasts up to his standard. He did 
not go down to their's. I know it is extremely difficult to 
draw a line between wise hospitality, and puritanical mean- 
ness; but there are extremes, and we can tell when we are 
out of the via media. * * * 

" It is well, I suppose, to know this world — the stuff it is 
made of — but what would I not give, if I could convey my 
experiences and impressions to my children ? When I 
look upon such scenes as those, to which I have alluded, 
I am compelled to witness sometimes families torn — hus- 
bands and fathers committing crime, or taking to drink, on 
account of the difficulties arising from extravagance ; when 
I read, as we do now every clay, of men and women com- 
mitting suicide, I feel one side is the legitimate result of 
the other. Instead of money making it easier to live, it is 
making it harder ; instead of our civilization being a bless- 
ing, it is a curse. There is no soul culture in it. Man is 
the cheapest thing in the world. Engines and tracks are 
of more value than the men who make and run them. In 
view of the wretchedness I see in the world, I confess that 
suicides and murders do not surprise me. When I contem- 
plate the struggle I have to wage, in order to feed and 
shelter and clothe my little ones, I am often saddened by 
the thought of what they would do if I were taken away 
from them. If they can hardly live with me, what would 
they do without me ? In the case of the man, here in 
Philadelphia, who killed his wife and children, and then 
drowned himself, it was in evidence that he was a good and 
tender-hearted man — only anxious — sometimes desponding. 
I can easily understand it — worn and weary, but affection- 
ate and kind, he thought the surest way was to settle the 
whole question forever. If it were not for a trust in G-od 
how could I live ? How do men live who do not have that 
filial, confiding sense of dependence ? And how are men 
to get that sense of trust — of faith ? The church ought 
to teach it — but does she ? She teaches worldliness and 



114 OCTAVIUS PERLNCHIEF. 

■unfaith, builds churches, and buys clothes or vestments,, 
and places a tax even upon worship. If we only knew 
God ourselves, and Jesus Christ whom he hath sent, surely 
it would not be so difficult to bring men to him. But it 
may be that more men know God than we think of. 0, 
blessed God, I hope so ; I trust more souls are fed by thee 
than we feed, are fed out of thine own hand, who feed not 
out of our troughs. It must be, Oh God, so let it be.. 
Feed thy children, draw near to them, even to me, also,, 
and mine. Make us to find Thee, and learn of Thee, and 
trust Thee. Keep us amid this wilderness ; open our path ; 
be our pillow of cloud and of fire ; forsake us not, nor 
leave us, but bring jis to that home which is heaven. We 
cannot go there unless we are fitted for that place. Fit us — 
not by any mere outward appearances, but by all inward 
culture and growth, for Jesus' sake. 

" April 23d 
" Busy the whole day making out lists of students,, 
places at which they are studying, amounts of money paid 
each year, &c. Number of our beneficiaries, 105 ; amount 
paid them upward of $30,000 yearly. Letter received to-day 
from a clergyman declining $100 for his son, because the 
grant was not $200. The letter said he had a right or 
claim because he was an Evangelical man. * * * A 
man who can modify his views from any outside considera- 
tions is no man for us, if he is a man at all. * * * Our 
object is to aid young men, not to buy them, to help; as I 
understand it, not wholly to support; for if we adopt the- 
the idea of an entire support it will be difficult to fix a 
limit, as the society is beginning to see. * * * The 
wonder to me is greater every day that the church stands 
at all. We are none of us seeking the things of Christ,, 
even in that action which is necessary in our daily work — 
only our isms — evermore. 

" Talked of a certain clergyman getting $4,000 instead of 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 115 

$2,000 paid to his predecessor. Pew rents raised to a cor- 
responding figure and the elite coming into the church a 
sign of prosperity, the said man being a fop and a man of 
pretension. His note paper of a very fancy order. Another 
clergyman of the same sort I met on the street ; large as 
life, clerical to the very throat, fat, hearty, evidently ' in 
position,' well satisfied with himself and with the world. * 
* * I feel no inspiration in my new work thus far. 
It seems unnatural — artificial. I have lived away from 
thought, and though my study kills me, I do not see how I 
can live out of it. A life that admits of no contemplation 
is no life for me, even if I should grow fat. However, 
God help and bless me. May I have grace to learn some- 
thing, and be fitted for a work more congenial at a future 
day. 

" Sunday, April 25th. 
" Attended a clerical prayer meeting. It was not exactly 
that, but like a debating society. The statement was made 
that we were not particular enough in our prayers — specify- 
ing. We did not believe and so did not receive. Anecdotes 
were told of men obtaining shoes, because they asked for 
shoes directly. One woman had her husband returned to 
her. One brother said when he lost a paper, he prayed the 
Lord to help him find it. Another called this childlike faith. 
He did not seem to realize that it was childish faith, or the 
absence of faith. One man asked if we did not sin when 
we attempted to reason about such things ? 1 confess I was 
a little startled at this question, to think that a middle- 
aged man, a man who was supposed to have received some 
education, could ask such a question. I have tried to think 
what his mind can be, or what he has where mind ought to 
be. What can he imagine the command to mean, where 
we are bidden to love God with all our mind ? Happily for 
all of us, this stuff was resisted. One brother present 
could not believe that the more ignorant man, was therefore 



116 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

the better man. Another brother protested against constru- 
ing a mere coincidence into a law. A man might ask for 
potatoes, and get potatoes, but he might have gotton pota- 
toes if he had not asked. The asking and getting in that 
case was a coincidence. The hour passed and the talk 
closed. But verily ' if the blind lead the blind how shall 
not both fall into the ditch.' How can our world be any- 
thing but what it is — a dark world — when so many of us 
are doctors of darkness and not divine teachers in any 
sense whatever." 

One of Mr. Perinchief's leading duties was to visit the 
larger cities on begging tours for the society. One clergy- 
man with total income of nearly $30,000 invited him cordi- 
ally to visit his magnificent church, promising to introduce 
him to rich men, &c, and afterwards took back the invita- 
tion, because he was going on a tour of pleasure for two 
months, &c, and offered him an evening in the chapel of his 
church. After commenting on this last letter, Mr. Perin- 
chief writes as follows : 

" April 29th. 
" Here is a shining light ! God help us ! How does the 
church stand? Now this is a direct illustration of how 
much the church is worth. What can such lights do for 
the good of mankind ? What can a man in his condition, 
with his disposition, teach us of God — of the meek and 
lowly Jesus ? What could he teach to such a fashion-rid- 
den people as his ? I have my doubts sometimes whether 
we ought to increase the ministry, whether the church is 
not a hindrance to mankind, more than a help. I do not 
wonder there are so few men among us — but my wonder is 
there are so many. It is such men who turn the heads of 
our youth, make the ministry a place for the worldly and 
selfish ; such men who build great churches, give mankind 
a stone, when it is asking God for bread. If this man and 
his letters were exceptions, it would make little matter; 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 117 

but when they are the rule, is it not time for some of us to 
be honest men, and come out and tell the world what 
humbugs we are ? Ought we not to pray God to root up 
this concern called a church, as, indeed, He appears to be 
doing, and bring in something which shall be stripped of 
pretension and lies. However, part of my object in enter- 
ing upon this work was to find out the church and learn 
something. I have had an inkling through many years of 
what we really are. May God have mercy upon me, and 
shield me in this day of bitter trial. I hardly know what 
to do — I am much distressed. * * * 

" April 29, 1869. 
" I find frequently among the clergy a state of depression 
— a feeling of unrest — a consciousness that things are not 
right ; sometimes a sense of despair. There are two classes 
of men perfectly satisfied, at the head of one, men who are 
hypocrites, with their nests well feathered ! well satisfied 
with themselves ! They do not intend always to deceive, 
but, like the old Scribes and Pharisees, are themselves 
deceived ! blind guides ! The other class is constituted of 
bipeds, without brains — men who never think — to whom a 
thought would be worse than . the nightmare ! — goodish, 
harmless, do-less creatures, who think it is a sin to think ! 
Between these two, over and above them, is a class of 
honest, holy men, lying in the stalls like sheep for the 
slaughter; and, on the other hand, men making a play of 
life, and a traffic of everything sacred ! O, gracious God, 
take pity on us, on oar poor race ! Keep me. Open Thou 
my eyes. Help me to feel Thou art not far off — Lord 
Jesus, come quickly. This society, and all kindred socie- 
ties, are only the exertion of an expiring church to keep 
itself from extinction. It is artificial — a thing which the 
church, in its zeal and vigor, ought to make impossible. A 
missionary society is a noble thing; but I confess to a sense 
of humiliation and shame, when we have to resort to the 



118 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

little children, and then, not so much to instruct and do 
them good, as to get ten cents out of each one. The stimu- 
lant to our youth is in the direction of money. We believe 
in money ; manhood may go to the dogs ; wisdom may die, 
— is dead ! 

" May 1, 1869. 
" At the office, early in the morning, found young 



disputing with — — about money. The young man thought 
more money was due him, when the books showed he had 
much overdrawn. The young man was fully dressed up, and 
had an artificial way of talking, which is so prevalent among 
the clergy, that one often wonders if they any longer know 
the English language. My impression is, these young men 
have an idea we are a bank for supporting their follies. It 
is high time that idea be removed ; though in some in- 
stances, from all appearance, it will take away the only 
idea that some of them have. 

" May 7th. 
" In certain places in Italy they have 365 holes for burials 
—one for each day of the year, and open a new one every 
day. The bodies are thrown in promiscuously — all naked, 
— lime and other substances are thrown upon them, and 
then they are left to dissolve. By the time the year rolls 
round for the same hole to be opened the various substances 
are absorbed by the earth. Even among the higher classes, 
none remain where they are first placed. The rich pay a 
certain price to remain in one place a year, and so in 
proportion, up to ten years. Beyond that, they must be 
removed to their final resting place, which is, nobody knows 
where. Only kings and princes have graves which are 
their own. This is modern civilization ; " Christian civiliza- 
tion," I suppose, some would call it ! It is fast getting to 
be a misfortune to live, and certainly it is a calamity to die. 
Even in this country the loss of a friend is a double calamity. 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 119 

The cost of a funeral is so great. You first lose your friend, 
and then lose your money. Very few can afford to die, how- 
ever inconvenient they may find it to live. In our cities our 
cemeteries are becoming so expensive we shall have to dig 
holes before long, and do as they do in Italy. What a sin 
rthat this country should be brought to such a condition ! I 
heard a gentlemen say that when he was in Europe a 
poor man stood by him when he was looking into one of 
these holes, and most touchingly grieved over the fact that 
his boy, whom he had lost, had to be thrown in there. It 
is the class at the bottom which has at last to pay the piper 
for the dances gotten up by grandeur and modern civiliza- 
tion. Yet in this country, by laziness, by exaction, by 
worthlessness, they are doing as much as any class to pre- 
cipitate such a condition. 

" May 8th. 

" Scarcely a day goes by — not a day — in which I do not 
see men plotting for mere position, their own petty, selfish, 
: advantage. Half of us are only making place for ourselves- 
This lies at the bottom of more than half our work ! I am 
certain we have not yet learned Christ. I thank God they 
do strike me as strange, and I pray the Spirit of all love, 
that, as I perceive how hateful a spirit of self, really is, I 
may get rid of it more and more, and live not unto myself, 
but to Him who died and gave himself for me. People 
say I move about a great deal, very unnecessarily; I won- 
der if it be not because I have not learned to make a place 
for myself. I have made places for other men. Even so 
I heard of a man to-day, whose people made him a present 
of a house, he is settled and done for — and so are they. 

"I think there is not so much sympathy in us now-a-days 
•as there used to be. One man illustrates it by reference to 
our great charities — asylums, children's homes, &c. I think 
these are one evidence of decay in themselves ; that in a 
■righteous civilization ! a true Christian civilization ! they 



120 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

would not be needed ; that some of our asylums are very 
questionable in their nature — which I have seen charged 
with being only so many accessories to sin and even to 
crime. Even if it were not so, yet, it certainly is true that 
these charities of ours, in many instances, have run into .a 
trade; in some instances they are political in their nature; 
and so far then they were trades; and charges have to be 
preferred against their officers, as in the case of Girard Col- 
lege. Moreover, men are relying upon societies and various 
institutions to do all their charity. Some men never give 
money to the poor. They, doing it as a duty give it to third 
parties ; the poor receive it as their due ; both sides are 
made poorer. The rich man has eased his conscience, and 
the poor man gets every day more dependant. Heart no- 
where touches heart. One man says our age is a fast age. 
Cities grow rapidly, so much so, that men cannot spend 
time in the exercise of the humbler virtues; business makes 
heavy demands upon time; and, in short, the whole tenor 
of our modern life demands that our charities should be 
delegated. Then, the question remains whether our civili- 
zation, after all, is a wise one — whether our tendency to 
large cities be not an evil in itself — whether all this we have 
mentioned does not prove that our age is decaying, because 
man is decaying ? But I cannot help thinking there are men 
who never reflect whether they are going to the kingdom 
of God or not, who have not analyzed life to see what of 
wisdom it has in it, who have never looked into religion 
and Heaven, so far as to see that they do not ebb 
and flow, according to our civilization; who have never 
reflected upon the character of Christ sufficiently to per- 
ceive that He said what He said, and was what He was, for 
the express purpose of delivering us from all unwisdom,, 
and making us sons of God. They do not see, that being 
lost, means not to have the graces and virtues that were in 
Christ, and that if they have not these, no matter what the 
cause was, they cannot enter the kingdom of Heaven. 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 121 

They read, but they do not understand, the words : ' My 
kingdom is not of this world.' " 

Having recorded an account of a church where he had 
been invited to preach, and present the claims of this society, 
he writes as follows : 

" After the sermon, notice was given of a collection for 
the family of a poor unfortunate. This man died here a 
week ago from poverty and overwork, leaving a family — • 
wife and six children — in a helpless and destitute condition. 
He had a small life policy- — but no home, no resources — and 
now I fear an appeal will be all in vain. The rector shed 
tears in talking of him, but there did not seem to be any- 
thing more than a professional interest in what he said. 
And this, I fear, is one effect of our charity system. The 
giver gives to a medium ; the medium, makes a business of it; 
and the receiver knows not the giver. So, at last, no real 
sympathy is created. The rector said our collection to-day 
would be about $300 for the society. He expected to get 
very little for the poor widow and her children. But he 
said, afterwards, the people, 'for whose preservation on the 
great deep,' prayers were offered, were very wealthy people ; 
that the gentleman told him he had laid by $20,000 for his- 
expenses this summer abroad ! No wonder the widow and 
the fatherless are destitute, and the pulpits lean and frivol- 
ous. By the way, this is becoming a very delicate and fash- 
ionable way of letting everybody know we are going to 
Europe : ' prayers of the church are desired for persons going 
to sea.' If they received any good themselves, or brought 
home anything valuable, there would be some comfort in 
praying for them ; but when they live at home doing no 
good, and go abroad for their pleasure, and come back 
with nothing but Parisian folly, I wonder why they should 
think God ought specially to preserve them. They ought 
to be prayed for truly, but I thought to-day : ' I wonder if 



122 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

anybody here will pray for these people, or are we all just 
running through the common farce? 5 And the widow and 
her orphans may starve — but it matters nothing if Mr. 
Golddust and his family see life in Europe, and get home 
safe and sound. 

" May 12th. 
" My soul rejoiced under the preaching of Philip Brooks. 
This is the first time I have heard him, and he gave us the 
best sermon I have heard for years. He is the only man I 
have heard for a long, long time, who, in my judgment, 
knows how to preach. His sermon was full of rich, prac- 
tical, common sense. His thoughts were philosophical, 
timely, and logically expressed. My soul thanked God that 
the church had yet a prophet ! that we were not all dead or 
dumb. May he go on and wake up this slumbering mass 
of so-called Christians, till the truth is heard and God is 
glorified. I confess I felt much helped, but, at the same 
time, felt I was out of my place — for, as I was moved, more 
than ever I felt the great privilege of being able to move 
others. Indeed, every day, more and more I feel I am 
aside from my proper work. Serving tables, when I ought 
to be 'giving myself to the ministry of the word and to 
prayer.' All things work together for good, and so I strive 
for the best. I suppose I ought not now to repent of having 
taken my present position; but I feel necessity is laid upon 
erne to get back to my own work — the work my master has 
given me to do — as soon as I can. 

May 15tt. 

" While travelling in the cars a little incident, this day, 
touched me. Just before me sat a very plain looking man. 
His face was brown, his hands hard and dark colored. I 
perceived he was a sailor. He looked strong and healthy; 
had no appearance whatever of dissipation ; had a look of 
happiness, of expectation, about him. In his hand he held 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 123 

something, a. little box, very carefully. Every now and then 
he would gently open it and look within to see that every- 
thing was right. Sitting behind him as I did, I perceived 
his box was a case of very delicate shell-work. In the cen- 
tre, very exquisitely wrought in small shells, were the words, 
' To my pet.' As we passed on I got into conversation with 
him. He was on his way home, after an absence of three 
years. He was anxious to see his parents, from whom he 
had not heard for some time. His little box was a present 
for his little niece, and his heart was beating in high hope. 
There was a manly bearing in the man. He seemed to feel 
he had acted like a man since he went away. Some how, 
my soul rejoiced in that man; I felt that the captain 
who was over him had a sailor he could trust in a dark 
night, on a lee shore, with a storm coming on. I felt a 
profound admiration for this manhood of ours, which, even 
in a common sailor, could be noble. The love of his home, 
his thought of that little child, made me respect him; I felt 
what blessings are these ties of nature ; I imagined him in 
his night-watches, dreaming over his home associations; in 
his turn ' on shore ' lifted above temptation by recollections 
of home. Verily, if we could only be wise, be what God 
wants us to be, what a happy world after all ours might be. 
Of all the faces I saw this day, none pleased me like that 
of this rough sailor. All the title to nobility any man can 
have, is that which he carries within him. It may live 
under a woolen shirt, and nerve a hand that is horny; but 
wherever it exists it is sublime — the pledge of a better 
world. 

" I dined with a friend, and took tea, also. After tea, 
family prayers. It always seems strange to me, that in most 
families where I go, whether of clergymen or otherwise, 
they call on me to pray at their family altar. I never think 
of such a thing as asking anybody to pray for me at mine. 
There is nobody who ought to offer prayers at our home- 



124 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

sanctuary but the head of the family, except under peculiar 
circumstances. 

" May 20th. 

"I called on Mrs. , on entering, I found three persons 

in the parlor, two gentlemen and one lady. I said to one 

of the gentlemen, I had called to see Mrs. ; he said 

that is Mrs. , pointing to the lady ; I bowed, told her 

my name and handed her a letter of introduction. While 
she was reading it, the gentlemen retired. When she had 
finished, I said, I presumed she had heard of the society ,. 
but with her permission I would like to tell her more about 

it. I will remark here, that Mrs. , is a woman of great 

wealth, living in a large house, with every luxury, a person 
of supposed education and refinement, not shoddy, not 
petroleum. She said she had heard of the society ; that her 
impression was, a collection had recently been taken for it 
in church. She said this not very pleasantly, but in about 
the same tone in which she would speak to a beggar at the 
door. I said, yes. I knew she was often called upon, and 
doubted not she had given something, but I wished to impress 
her with a sense of our situation, and to solicit her addi- 
tional aid. But she did not believe in educational societies ; 
i young men made them a stepping stone to social position.' 
Here she brought this great crime against the clergy again, 
the crime of aspiring to be equal to her. Here the pride 
of that fearful condition of wealth stuck out again — the 
scorn for the poor. She said she thought it desirable that 
talent should be brought into the church ; but there was the- 
very point — ' talent would always take care of itself. AIL 
the self-made men get along without society aid.' I admitted; 
that to a certain extent, what she said was true, but there 
were many considerations she had left out. When we 
looked around us, we could see many deserving men who 
had helped themselves, but who was left to speak for those 
who had died in the attempt? ' Oh, dear,' said she, ' who 



EVANGELICAL EDUDATION SOCIETY. 125 

ever heard of such a thing ?' I then told her of a class-mate 
of mine in college, who died the third day after graduating ! 
died from want and exposure. I told her this was not hear- 
say, but I was testifying to what I had seen. This involved 
somewhat my own experiences, I touched upon the idea, 
that how, even when men survive, they are often crippled 
for life ; that I myself broke down the last year in the 
seminary, and had never seen a well day since. I observed 
a tear; she had gotten much interested in what I had said, 
and her heart was touched a little. I doubt not she thought 
she was feeling like a Christian. Thus it is, people go even 
to church, and listen to the recital of others' woes and mis- 
fortunes, and even the vices and crimes of their fellow- 
creatures, feel touched by it, and think that is religion. 
Indeed the woes and vices are beginning to be a staple of 
entertainment in our sentimental churches. We talk so 
much about them, that people forget them. 

" The unhappy woman replied, ' Yes; that convinces me 
God does not intend that we should transgress any laws; 
to my mind it is clear God wants us to take care of our- 
selves.' I replied, ' but what becomes of your plan of a 
young man taking care of himself ?' ' Oh,' she said, 'I 
meant that he should lay up his money, and live well, and 
take plenty of exercise.' 'But how can he? — his money! 
what money ?' ' Oh, there is always a way, if one looks for 
it. But,' she quickly ejaculated, ' what about your own 
health; are you well?' * ETo, madam; I am not — never 
expect to be.' ' But does not your present work do you 
good ?' ' Possibly it would if I could get to my home 
every night; but, being away from my home, I have to eat 
food not very well suited to me — have to eat at irregular 
times. Sometimes I get wet, even to-day I am suffering 
from neuralgia, arising from my getting wet yesterday/ 
' You have a family, have you ?' ' Yes, madam.' ' Where 
are they ?' ' In Philadelphia.' ' Are they in want ?' 'No, 
thank God ; they have a home, and are comfortable.' 



126 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

' They pay you, then, for your work ?' ' Yes ;' and here, for 
fear she would begin to think I was begging money for my 
own salary, I told her ' Mr. Jay Cooke pays my salary, 
himself, so that I need not ask a cent, except for the young- 
men, so that every dollar may go to the proper work of the 
society.' Here, she took from her purse ten dollars, and 
said, ' I have nothing now to give to the society, but' — hor- 
ror of horrors — * here are ten dollars for yourself.' ' Oh, 
madam !' I replied, starting back, ' how strange this would 
be, were I, an agent of a society, to take money for myself.' 
' You are not offended, I hope,' she replied, with a look of 
indignation and surprise. ' I insist upon it, you must take 
it for yourself.' Here was a scene brewing, I hesitated, 
amazed at the woman's indelicacy, indignant at the thought 
of her pride, her selfish conceit. What to do, I did not 
know, with the ten dollars thrust into my hand. I said I 
cannot promise, madam, any further than to assure you I 
will use this money, meaning that I would apply it to my 
expenses, and so save that much to the society. I turned 
and came away — I own to a new sensation. Had I come to 
this ? exciting sympathy to the extent of ten dollars from a 
millionaire, and all for myself? Is this the estimate the 
church has of the clergy ? We are tolerated, but we ought 
to be crushed, kept to our places, where we can be patron- 
ized — true objects of charity ! This is Christian civiliza- 
tion — a woman not able to see that her refinement and 
culture are, indeed, very filthy rags, in which she never 
will flourish in the kingdom of God. I thought it was 
high time for me to leave.. I felt, verily the tender mercies of 
the wicked are cruel. 

"Mat 22rf. 

" Preached at ■ Church, Boston ; one of the wealthiest 

churches in the city. The congregation was small — about 
300 persons — they of the sleepiest possible order — wealthy, 
and very evidently dead. They have no rector ; find it diffi- 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 12T 

cult to get one. I could not help feeling, as they were sing- 
ing, — they, i. e., the choir, — 'what a heartless formality the 
church is, after all.' The music was of the operatic order; 
done by a paid choir of theatricals. The Te Deum took up 
about a quarter of an hour. The services were languid,, 
and even the minister, a gentleman, locum tenens, seemed 
abstracted and hopeless. He offered the usual prayer. A 
prayer offered, I find, by nine out of ten of our ministers. 
A prayer, God seems to have heard, ' Make lean our hearts 
within us ' — lean enough they are. Possibly it is better the 
people do not go to church, than that we should all settle 
down to the level of offering to God such mockery. * * 
' But I read an article the other evening in an Episcopal 
paper, extolling the procession of boys, the singing, the 
cross and emblems, as the very essence of religion ; just 
think of that ! what the Episcopal church has reached and 
what it Avould bring us to.' And so it is indeed, these 
heartless aesthetic services bring religion into contempt. In 
them the church is a source of harm. Talk of high and 
low church — the fact is, high or low ! what we want is 
religion. 

" May 22d. 
Truly our civilization has neglected to build at the bottom 
of society, and now the cry for help is fearful. We have 
built two much of money — of wood and hay and stubble ! 
not enough anywhere, of mind and heart and soul, of real 
and divine culture. We have put in earthly things till even 
the church is engrossed in them, and the hearts of both 
sides are set upon them, while spirit and truth are languish, 
ing, and with all our show, and all our work, the race is- 
hungry and faint and dying. Our rich people are embalmed 
in pride, they think if they take care of themselves that is 
enough, that they have nothing to do with the common 
people; and to them, all people who have no money are 
common. 



128 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" June 9th. 
Had a talk with a man full of second Advent — strange 
how some men run into speculation, always dreaming over 
what might be, not understanding things that are. This 
man, evidently a good man, and a man of thought, came 
in with the intention of giving me a lecture ; he has no idea 
that he can be wrong, he insists upon giving ideas. In 
doing that, if you ask him to define his terms, he seems 
never to have thought that they could need defining. A 
strong Calvinist, he takes for granted that his predestination 
is the one thing needful, and is startled if anybody calls it 
in question. I was much amused when he was gone, at the 
look of surprise on his face as he went out; and I was a 
little surprised at myself, for I had intended to listen, but 
instead, found myself giving him a lecture. We all have 
our hobbies; and so it is, I suppose, God keeps all truth 
from perishing. 

"June 10th. 
" In looking back at the record of my visit to New York 
I find it extremely meagre. My experiences there were 
anything but delightful ; my impressions anything but con- 
soling. If Paul felt better when he got through with the 
beasts at Ephesus than I did when I got through with some 
of those men, he felt superlatively well. 'One experience 
paid him for the other. Some of our rich men are mostly 
animal. They are not aware of the extent to which 
money has eaten the soul out of them. One man, I knew 
ten years ago — he had then long been wealthy — was retired 
from business, but he had some ideas of humility, had much 
left of humanity. This time I had a talk with him. I dis- 
covered a sad lapse, a fearful retrogression. I talked with 
him as I do with others about the society. But I go off 
then to the study -of these strange beings ; I endeavor irres- 
pective of the society, to find out what there is of the man 
in them. I find there too often only pride, self-arrogance ? 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 129 

I say too often — almost always. In many instances they are 
not even gentlemen ; and as to generosity, I know few rich 
men relative to whom the word can be used. I know of no 
man who gives anything but what he can easily spare ; any- 
thing that, when given, has touched the point where real 
giving, true generosity, begins. Then the giving, such as it 
is, ruins them — first, it places them in a condition or position 
from which they only patronize; when they have given, 
they only feel prouder than ever; they use that position 
from which to ventilate their ideas. Then others learn to 
flatter them, and they drink in flattery as if it were nectar. 
Thus rich men put on airs ; grow really vulgar, unmanly ; 
and so extremes meet at last, poverty and riches in the same 
thing, all unculture, absence of any real wisdom, and all 
true development. Then, the general influence of such 
men is extremely injurious; a peculiar atmosphere sur- 
rounds them. Put them together in churches and you 
concentrate nothingness. The Gospel, of necessity, dies 
where they are. I could not help asking myself as I turned 

away from rectory — c How is it possible for this man 

to preach the Gospel?' He is but a victim of riches; a 
man who could take the place he occupies, must of neces- 
sity be a dead man, for two reasons — they would not call 
any other, and no other would go there, or suit them. 
They imagine they are a power, when in reality they are of 

no more force in the plans of God in than the 

stone sidewalk. The news-boys are a greater power. They 
place great value on themselves, but God corrects them not. 
And so all the way through, when men get to patronizing 
God, as so many of our churches are doing, they are a curse 
to themselves and others. They will not listen to truth. 
It cannot be presented to them ; whatever good is done on 
earth, must be done in spite of them. They are not in the 
kingdom of heaven, and I fear they never will be. One 
great difficulty about all this is — nobody can understand it 
who has not a spiritual eye to see it. It is not a thing that 

9 



130 OCTAVIIIS PERINCHIEF. 

one intelligence can demonstrate to another. It is like 
beauty and the essence of anything not to be told, but to 
be perceived and felt. Then it is stronger than demonstra- 
tion. Christ himself could only say ' how hardly shall they 
that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven.' That 
is all that can be said, all that need be said to a wise man. 
The only hopeful thing about the church is, that the clergy 
are beginning to see the moral death all around them, to 
feel the slavery wealth imposes, the fearful fetters all this 
conventional nightmare creates. Yet, they have no just 

conception of the real state of the case. Doctor spoke 

most plainly to me of it, but he only sees through a glass 
darkly. I wonder how he can be so blind as he is, though 
perhaps the real wonder is he should see at all. When men 
are in rail cars together, they look at each other and do not 
seem to move, or if they know they are moving, they are 

unconscious of their speed. Doctor said to me, he 

never knew a generous layman. I replied ' do we not teach 
that nobleness, unselfishness, all that is humble and gener- 
ous and true, are heavenly and of the kingdom of heaven V 
' If so, how can we tell these men they are going to heaven ? 
It is meet ' I added ' that we should be as noble and pure 
and unselfish and generous as possible ourselves.' Some- 
body said he could not think of New York as anything now 
upon the face of God's earth but the feeder of Greenwood. 
The Metropolis of Necropolis — the beginning and the end- 
ing — all very well, if that were the ending, and in reality 
' the Metropolis, the Necropolis ' — the place of . the dead ; 
the spiritually dead ; and the hereafter ! 

" June 13*. 

" The rector saw me, and sent for me. I went in, put 
on the gown, and preached an extempore sermon on the 
work of the Evangelical Educational Society. I somehow 
feel that the minds and hearts of the people are not with 
the church. We have vastly more churches than are* 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 131 

needed; i. e., vastly more than the people will use. Those 
who do go to church are seemingly content that the church 
should die. They feel no interest in its work, and care not 
that there should be clergy to carry it on. Possibly this 
apathy on the part of the people is a consequence of the 
apathy on the part of the clergy. I somehow felt, to-day, 
that there was not much of any sort of spirit in that church 
calculated to awake the sympathies and energies of the 
congregation. The deacon who read the service most cer- 
tainly did not know how to read, or did not understand 
what he was reading, and seemed not to care to have the 
people understand. My friend had told me I need not 
come over unless I chose, that he could get more money 
out of his people than I could. I went over this morning 
on the strength of that, expecting to hear him ; indeed, 
expecting to borrow his ideas ; i. e., to see his way of pre- 
senting the subject. When I arrived he told me he had 
nothing but an old sermon fixed over ; in short, nothing ; 
and I must address the congregation. Unprepared, I had 
to do it. Now that kind of spirit — nothing to say to them 
— will kill any church ; and so much ' Nothing to say/ on 
the part of the clergy has, perhaps, done more to kill the 
church than any other single cause whatever. An incident 
occurred to-day, however, worth mentioning. There was 
no collection taken, but persons were invited to give, as is 
usual, by cards or pledges ; and this afternoon the anniver- 
sary offerings of the Sunday School were to be given to us. 
But as I was coming out of the church with the rector, 
long after the congregation had gone, a young lady dressed 

in black came up the aisle and beckoned to Mr. . When 

he reached her, she placed in his hand a ten dollar bill as 
her response to my appeal. This girl, he told me, was a 
serving girl, and this money was probably all she had. The 
incident greatly moved me. 



132 OCTAVIUS PEBJNCHIEF. 

" July 1st. 
" Sick, but at the office, and did nothing of*- any account. 
To-day there came into the office a clergyman, who had 
secured, by some means, a D. D., and thought himself a 
great man. I remember to have heard him speak several 
years ago of his position in the church. Of late years he 
has done little or nothing in several small parishes, and yet 
the air of condescension and patronage he put on ! An air 
which, in less than three months, alienated everybody from 
him. I was led, from his action and experience, to ask 
myself whether, in all probability, the man had ever 
attained to a conception of what it is to give oneself to the 
Lord. He evidently has been working all his life in pride 
and selfishness, enjoying position, and seeking place, not 
knowing that any place upon earth was high enough for 
God's service, and that that service, in any degree, was 
good enough for him, provided it was the very best and 
purest he could render. It comes back to what I have often 
thought and said before, that they whom the church is car- 
rying are vastly more in number than they who are carry- 
ing the church ! My prayer to God is, if I am one who is 
merely serving myself, under pretense of serving Him, I 
may discover it and amend. O, thou God, who knowest 
the secrets of all hearts, thou knowest I have desired to 
serve and glorify thee. Make me thy son, not one of thy 
hired servants. 

" August 31st. 

"Read letters, and had a long talk with Dr. Sparrow. 
He thinks I ought not to resign my present post, but insist 
upon my plan of administering the society, and stick to it, 
for the sake of the church. His ideas are very good so far 
as they go ; but my chief reasons for leaving the society 
are just those I cannot tell him. 

"I am beginning to have a conviction, rather my impres- 
sions are growing into a conviction, that we do not need 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 133 

such a society. First, I cannot see that a large proportion 
of the young men we are helping will ever be anything 
more than so much clerical rubbish, of which we have 
already an abundant supply ; second, beyond all question 
we are educating young men into notions of the church 
and the priesthood, false, ruinous, and prejudicial to the 
real interests — temporal and spiritual — of the human race ; 
third, we are taking up young men too lazy to work, and 
are putting them into positions which they, by pride and 
vanity, render contemptible ; fourth, why cannot the clergy 
educate the young men found to their hand. I have edu- 
cated two young men, both useful men now in the ministry, 
neither of whom asked a dollar from any society. Then, 
this coming in contact with rich men, this begging money, 
is the most humiliating work a man ever had to do upon 
earth. Eich men ! I know few who try to redeem the char- 
acter of the class. The very work is degradation. All 
this I could not tell the doctor, but it is all in my mind ; 
and, to say nothing of my yearning for my regular work, 
the ill-health of my wife, and many other matters compel 
me to seek a parish with all speed. The doctor looks at 
things merely from the standpoint of a teacher, and if all 
teachers were like him we should have no trouble; but 
when our seminaries are filled with men below the ordi- 
nary, men of contracted and obsolete views, it gives rise to 
the question — Whether seminaries themselves be a bless- 
ing ? 

" September bth. 
" Went to church to-night. I like the rector because 
there is something peculiarly hearty and earnest about 
him. Yet his address was of the uniform orthodox char- 
acter — very simple. What appears to me very unsatisfac- 
tory, would be to me, certainly, very unedifying. What 
strikes me, when I am listening to these discourses, is, that 
the men do not see the truths they repeat. There is no 



134 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

depth, there is no force, no practical value attaching. I 
can find nothing that goes down into the eternal subjects 
touched, and I really cannot wonder men keep out of 
church. What I call the great issues of life — life itself — 
in its multiplied relations, duties and demands, is not 
touched. There is nothing said that brings out the majesty 
of life, the fearfulness of life, the beauty of life — nothing 
that connects the here with the hereafter. This calling 
upon men to join the church, drawing distinctions between 
those who do and those who do not, distinctions which are 
merely imaginary, and are unfortunately growing less and 
less actual in practical fact, and can never avail in building 
up souls in wisdom. After all, can anything make us min- 
isters of God, except God's own spirit ? Can we see light, 
except in God's own light ? These thoughts were deepened 

this evening upon the occasion of hearing preach ; 

my wife and I went expressly to hear him. He had a toler- 
able congregation, about three hundred, with a goodly 
sprinkling of men. It was the number of men I observed 
which caused me to count them. I counted ninety-five. 
Now, I thought, here is a chance to generate a few life 
thoughts, but there was nothing of the sort; only St. Paul, 
the greatness of his character, and the fidelity of the man. 
True, by inference, it was a good lesson to us, but there is 
the point. Nothing of St. Paul's times was made to apply 
to us, and the result was a sentimental admiration for the 
Apostle, who, if he had been alive to-night, could not have 
gained access to that church, and whom these very people 
would probably not have listened to if he had undertaken 
to speak a word to them "there — even a word of life. There 
is the trouble with our gospel ; it is no gospel. Men in 
the pulpit, with learning and rhetoric, telling about the 
games of Greece. Stuffed men in the pews will do well 
enough for a play, but we must have something higher and 
broader if our world is to be better than that in which St. 
Paul lived. Many of our congregations, I verily believe, 



EVANGELICAL EDUCATION SOCIETY. 135 

would not, could not, give Paul, or any man like him, the 
patient hearing he got at the Acropolis ! Talk of * the 
church,' bishops, priests, and deacons — what would the 
world be if there were nothing in it better than these. The 
greatest mystery in life to me is, that the majority of the 
human race can be humbugged as they are with names and 
shows. 

" September 6th, 1869. 
" Going into town this morning, a lady and her daughter 
just returned from the sea shore, amused me very much 
with their conversation, all about dresses, hats, balls and 
parties; the young lady's age not nineteen, so near to it 
however, as to admit of little jokes about it. Such a mess 
of earthiness, childishness, emptiness, heartlessness, folly ; 
could it be possible that these were two human beings ? 
The thought came to my mind, as to the possibility of 
reaching such people. What is there to reach ? Yet this 
condition must have had a cause. But here we are, these 
.are only atoms that help to swell the tide; such are our 
times I can see no hope of reform to any great extent. Indi- 
viduals must do the best they can for themselves. I felt 
the force of that scripture — ' save yourselves from this unto- 
ward generation.' 

September 15th, 1869. 
When I see the many who are trifling with us, I question 
whether our society had not better die. Young men of 
real worth will not join us; at any rate, they are modest in 
what they request. As to seminaries, I have lost faith in 
them too. The young men there are as self-seeking as the 
young men in our stores, only not half so manly and inde- 
pendent, with now and then a noble exception. We want 
men to go into humble places and teach the people. These 
seminaries teach them all sorts of foolish dignity, and fit 
them for anything in the world but usefulness. 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 



After leaving the Evangelical Society as already men- 
tioned, Mr. Perinchief went to Baltimore in November, 
1869 ; thence to Bridgeport, Pa., in July 1870, and to York, 
Pa., in 1873, where he was at the head of a school, and also 
pastor of St. John's church. He went to Mount Holly, 
New Jersey in 1874, and finally back to Bridgeport, re- 
maining there the rest of his life. During all these years 
he kept a fragmentary journal, and a few portions of it 
will be found in the following chapter : 

" Baltimore, Feb. 10, 1870. 
" I went to make a call, and just as I was coming out of 
the house, a question was asked reflecting on my preaching. 
This led to a conversation in which I endeavored to 
enlighten the person, at the same time trying to find out 
what he thought. After a talk of about two hours, extend- 
ing up to half past ten o'clock at night, I found I had been 
absolutely talking in vain, forever coming back again to the 
point, which I supposed I had settled, finding that he never 
looked beyond the mere letter of the Scripture. As the 
Romanist does when he says 'this is my body;' that he 
imagined the passage which says ' Gocl created us in his own 
image,' to mean that our bodily shapes were like those of 
the invisible God, who has no bodily shape. I found he 
always used the words wisdom and knowledge, and so 
understood them as precisely the same. He went on to say 
that in all candor, he must tell me he did not think I — and 
then he stopped, for I interrupted him — I think he was going 
to say he did not think I could preach the Gospel. From all 



138 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEP. 

I could make out of his idea of the Gospel or of preaching is, 
that I should be forever telling the people what sinners they 
were, and urging them to join the church. Of course I 
could not sleep at all that night, nor have I yet recovered 
from the effect of that talk. They are the men who are 
always telling us the world is going to destruction, that the 
people no longer go to church. They alone cannot see that 
men of the world are wiser than they. They insist that their 
theology is all the theology there is worth knowing; and 
while the church is dying of narrowness, they, only too 
ignorant of its malady, true to all the instincts they have, 
must needs make it narrower. 

" Bridgeport, Aug. 10, 1870. 

" To go back a little, I record here the peculiar cir- 
cumstances under which I came here. The work of my 
parish in Baltimore was altogether too much for me. The 
* Memorial ' was a delightful field, so far as any ministerial 
field is, where a man endeavors to do his duty; but the 
anxiety to do my duty, the incessant labor, the thousand and 
one elements of my position, so wore upon me that my life 
was in danger. 

" I looked around for a position in which I could live and 
do all the work that was to be done. I heard of several, 
.and among them this one at Bridgeport. 

" September 27th, 1870. 
" I have been invited to take part in a Sunday school 
convention in a neighboring town, although I have not 
generally felt much interest in such affairs. The debates I 
had thought ran low, and the topics discussed were super- 
ficial and trivial. There is generally only a sort of namby- 
pamby and useless talk, and nothing more. I went over, 
not wishing to appear indifferent to any movement set on foot 
for the improvement of Sunday schools. My impressions as 
rto these gatherings generally, were deepened. The questions 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 139 

discussed were — ' the aim of teachers' meetings.' ' Ought not 
every Sunday school to have a Teachers' Training Class ?' 
' How to secure a more cordial interest in our Sunday schools, 
on the part of our congregations.' My part was appointed 
upon the question of how to interest our congregations in 
Sunday school work. I took a ground rather broader than 
that, which was, how to interest our congregations in any- 
thing good. I said the churches were taken up with their 
theologies and their music and church architecture — and 
public schools and Sunday schools, and men, as men, were 
neglected; that calves had a market value, but boys and 
girls were worth nothing, &c, &c, and closed with the idea 
that there was no help for us, except in each one setting to 
work with all his might to do what his hand found to do ; 
that the want in our time was Christian individuality ; that 
if we would each one of us exercise his respective gift, 
instead of finding fault and cutting out work for one 
another; if we would ask instruction of our pulpits, and 
not go to church to see if our Minister was sound, and 
stuck rigidly to what all his hearers thought they already 
believed we should probably not have to meet there to ask 
how to interest our congregations in Sunday schools. My 
speech excited them a good deal. When I sat down the 
chairman said I had gone over the period prescribed by 
the rules, and it was time to adjourn. One gentleman 
remarked, he hoped we would not adjourn, for he was burn- 
ing to say something ; I said I hoped he would be allowed to 
say it, .especially as I could not be there in the afternoon to 
hear what he had to say. Upon this, ten minutes were 
given him, and he said, that I had pitched into the laity and 
into church members, and he believed that the people were 
ahead of the clergy ; up in his county, before he went there, 
they had no Sunday school, now that they had one, the 
women were down upon all pride, came to church in their 
hoods. Before he had exhausted his ten minutes, he sat 
down without having lifted a general subject above his local 



140 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

position. I came home with the same impressions and 
convictions relative to these gatherings, which I had when 
I went there. I am perfectly satisfied, as I told them, that 
the reason why the world is so had, is simply that the 
church is not better ! I am satisfied we need breadth and 
comprehension, both in our church members and preachers. 

" October 5, 1870. 
" Coming home from church two ideas predominated in 
my mind. First, was not the sacrifice which Christ made 
for us, and our redemption, the simple fact of coming at 
all ? Did not his sufferings strike their greatest intensity 
in simply being there with such a people. They were taken 
up with earth, with the church, with petty matters, inter- 
esting to them, merely because of their unculture. They 
had nothing responsive to his thought, to his sympathy. 
His having not where to lay his head was a much lighter 
burden than it would have been to be paid by the Jews for 
his ministry. Many, many thoughts reach down here. 
What love that could send a Christ to plant a seed which, 
although slow, should alone develop ! What a progress, 
that some of us have so far profited by the sacrifice — that 
we can see, to some degree, into its nature ! * * * * 
I saw in a paper, a few days ago, the complaint of a man 
saying that he preached over the heads of his people. I 
thought of it, and have been thinking of it in connection 
with ministers. Generally, they are not wiser than their 
people ; altogether run round and round a certain circle ; 
no thought, no receptivity for thought. The query arises — 
Is not our ministry in want of a general re-organization ? Is 
there not an absolute need of a new method of moral 
instruction ? Has not the time come when somebody should 
go to the people, rather than to the church ? to the " lost 
sheep,' rather than to the present folds ? We laugh when 
we listen to negroes instructing negroes, or to a child in- 
structing a child ! but is it not the way with us all ? 



later parish experiences. 141 

November 21, 1870. 
Had a meeting of the Swedes vestry this evening. The 
occasion of it was a letter received on Saturday, from the 
clerk of the vestry, which was as follows : 

" Bridgeport, Pa., November 15, 1870. 
" Rev'd 0. Perinchief — Rev'd and Dear Sir : I am 
instructed to inform you of the following action taken by 
the vestry at its last meeting : 

"Resolved: That a voluntary contribution of $300 be placed 
in the hands of our rector, on the 15th of December, prox., 
in token of our appreciation of the sacrifice he has made in 
declining a most generous offer. 

"With much respect, very truly yours, 

" G. W. Holstein, Clerk. 

" To explain the above letter, I will mention a few facts. 
When I came to this parish, I could, if I had chosen, have 
gone to New York. I preferred, all things considered, to 
come here. After I came here, overtures were made to me 
again by the same parish in New York. These, I declined. 
Lately, the whole matter was opened again. A call was 
sent, making liberal offers, which I again declined, and my 
people here heard of it. They expected at one time that I 
would go, and appeared to be relieved when they heard of 
my decision not to go. This explains the reference in the 
letter. After reflection, I concluded to decline the accep- 
tance of the $300, and on Sunday called this vestry meeting ; 
I wished to give the vestry my reasons for declining, as 
follows : They had been at considerable expense in bring- 
ing me here in the summer. I thought $1,800 and a house 
sufficient for the amount of work they had here to do. The 
$1,800 was above the average income of my people, and 
they could scarcely afford it. They had been at great 
expense in -fixing the church and graveyard, (some $700,) 
and all this money was not yet paid. They were then think- 



142 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ing of appealing to the public, through a concert or fair, or 
something of that sort, and, that too, when they had, only 
last spring, made a similar appeal. Moreover, the parsonage 
needed immediate repairs, fencing, &c, necessitating an 
outlay of $100 or $150. In short, there was debt upon the 
church, and it was better to be just before being generous. 
Without any hesitation they acquiesced in all I said, and 
expressed their gratification at the view I took of things. 

" January 19th. 
" I had an article about half written upon the subject of 
' The Evangelical Alliance,' in which I intended to show 
that the alliance, as a council, or another society, could be 
of little service. Councils are played out, and a general 
council, with any show of general in it, is impossible. As 
another society, with aims and ends purely its own, so far 
from adding to the general Christian forces, it could only 
absorb or divide forces already existing; but if they would 
meet together as a conference, aim at making the church 
more effective, i. e., if, as a body of physicians, to augment 
their own skill, or if, as a nation, to increase her military 
force, rather than to mark out a campaign, then much 
good might be hoped for. My object was to show that the 
church herself is at this moment the sickliest patient upon 
earth, and that what the world wants, is not a voice to tell 
us we are lost, but a living light to lead the way to safety. 
I took up Scribner's Magazine for February, and read an 
article upon the ' Bondage of the Pulpit/ an article which 
struck me as being so illogical, superficial, and unchristian,, 
that I queried whether articles in magazines could do any 
good ; that is, if this article, which I saw highly praised in 
a secular paper last night, could so strike me, how many 
would think otherwise of any article of mine ? At best,, 
only those derive any benefit who agree with us already. 
Does that pay for the trouble of writing an article ? Men 
think as they please, at last, and the writer ignored the fact 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 143 

that the times for pulpit authority have gone by, simply 
because men do think for themselves, and are as capable of 
doing it as the pulpit is of doing it for them. His idea is, 
that the prime object of the pulpit is, rebuke. He instances 
adultery going unrebuked. In my ministry of thirteen 
years, I do not know of one case of adultery, nor in any 
person with whom I have had anything to do, have I had 
good reason to suspect it. In any member of my church 
or congregation, according to the writer, the simple idea of 
Christ in the Gospel is, obedience to Him as a master ; con- 
formity with His instructions, as with the instructions of a 
teacher, is morality ; compliance with His wishes, as with 
the wishes of a friend, is sentimentalism. What he required 
is, obedience to His commands, as to the commands of a 
master. If that is Christian ! then I have spent my life 
in making a mistake. I have misunderstood Christ him- 
self when He says, ' I call you no more servants, but sons;' 
' I call you no more slaves, but friends.' It is true, He 
quotes only St. Paul, and He seems never to have thought 
that the distinguishing characteristic of Christ is, that, he 
took away the old idea of the rod, and the law, and the 
master, and put there simply filial affection, when he taught 
us to call God ' our Father.' Is there any use in preaching 
or writing, or trying to do any good when the end is full of 
ruin ? If I had never found Christ, certain men, like the 
writer alluded to, would make me an infidel. The Church, 
instead of being at this moment just that pure light the 
world wants to see, is the sure fault-finding element too 
often, which the writer represents, and though he may be 
far from knowing it or intending it, he is making infidels, 
and helping the devil ! Is it worth while to write ? In 
my judgment, the evil, at this moment, existing among 
the clergy is just what crops out here — a jealousy of each 
other — no brotherhood, no warm interest in each other's 
success; so that each one has to take care of himself, and 
go literally upon his own responsibility. 



144 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" January 23d. 
"Had a call this morning from a young man endeavoring 
to sell Zell's Encyclopedia and the Life of Dickens. He 
was an intelligent and gentlemanly fellow, above the aver- 
age of book agents. I explained to him my inability to 
buy, and told him if I had the money I would take a copy 
of his book if only to help him along, for I realized, were 
it not for him and men like him, some of our people would 
not have a book in their houses, and I thought some good 
was accomplished in putting almost any of these books 
within their reach. He said he thought it was time some- 
body sold books in the country, for he had met several per- 
sons who had never heard of Charles Dickens; that people 
asked him questions sometimes which he took for jokes, 
and answered accordingly, till he found they took his re- 
plies in sober earnest. He said he met a man near Phila- 
delphia, a respectable looking man and a merchant, who 
told him on Saturday that the works of Dickens were trash. 
He asked the man if he had read them, and he replied that 
he had enough of them to satisfy him ; that any man in the 
world could write such stuff if he had a mind to do it. 
This young gentleman advised him to try it. 

"February 27th. 
"Last evening, in a conversation with an old gentleman, 
a remark was made by him characteristic and suggestive. 
I have often imagined that some men and women have no 
souls ; even some called Christians appear to me to have no 
spirit vision. All is a gross, soiled, carnal, hard, earthy ex- 
istence. Even spiritual things, like the Church, are but so 
many means of mortal subsistence. Even character is only 
a mercantile commodity, or, perhaps, at the very highest, a 
social passport. Speaking of a certain clergyman, the old 
gentleman remarked : ' It is wonderful how successful he 
has been. Why, I hear his salary is very large.' This 
person the old gentleman knew when a boy. I also knew 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 145 

him well and intimately for many years, for we were at 
college and in the seminary together. He has a nature very 
much like that of my visitor, and has had ' great success,' 
his salary being four thousand dollars. 

"It occurred to me that this was the way we got so much 
hollowness in the ministry. Parents and friends instil into 
the minds of theological students the idea of success, meas- 
ured by a worldly standard. Being ordained, they go out 
with a false ambition, and 'success' must be secured whether 
we have any religion or not — heart and soul and mind are 
of no consequence. Show and make-believe are the supreme 
good. A young man may be willing to face the world, the 
flesh, and the devil, but he must be brave, indeed, if he can 
face his friends. And when the Church is made up, on its 
two sides, of such material, what can keep us from being 
the brainless, heartless, canting, and trivial things we are ? 
It sometimes appears to me as if Christians were opposed 
to everything in the world but sin and folly. We pitch 
into mormonism, into heathenism, into poverty and vice 
by wholesale; but sin, Wall street, and satan we generally 
leave alone. We cultivate everything but pure wisdom. 
How seldom, even in the ministry, we meet a man above a 
prejudice. Our gods are dress, organs, churches, societies, 
office, and honors. We roam the world the most desolate 
things in it. We create poverty by making it impossible to 
live. We create vice by compelling the vain attempt to get 
bread, and whether, with or without bread, we have nobody 
to love us. Soul hath no food. Self, everywhere self, and 
evermore self." 

The subjoined remarks were suggested by the large num- 
ber of advertisements which he had noticed in one of the 
leading religious newspapers of the day: 

"February 5, 1872. 
"All business is now conducted upon a speculative basis. 
We are not set upon developing resources for human good. 
10 



146 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

Mines, railroads, and all enterprises run into stocks, and 
they are cards with which men every where are gambling. 
The prime object of trade is to create artificial wants, rather 
than to meet our real needs, and so to create comfort. Few 
men are content to make an honest livelihood. There is an 
element of chance, a hope of bonus, a selfish, devilish grasp- 
ing after something not earned, till we can no longer get any 
thing honestly done, anything honestly represented. Men 
look each other in the face, if they look at all, only to smile. 
In the Church, too, we have put on sham as a garment. 
The Church has, by the world's ways, obtained the world's 
things. The servant has not been content to be as his Lord, 
and Gehazi is covered with the leprosy of Eaaman. God 
says, ' not by might, nor by power, but by my spirit.' Where 
among us is the spirit of Jesus ? He said, * Do good and 
lend, hoping for nothing.' We say, 'do good, but be sure 
and make money by it.' If anything can do more to make 
infidels than this same spirit, I hope I may not live to see 
it. Our church buildings, our finery from Paris, our doc- 
tors of divinity, our bishops, our ministers, our world's way 
of running religion, have opened the sluice-gates of all mis- 
chief. Men look upon our conventions, our societies for 
manufacturing clergymen, our sectarian papers as so many 
death struggles to keep alive what the world does not need, 
and what God can get along without. There is an unbelief 
with respect to sincerity, a thing we sometimes call 'infi- 
delity,' and the worst feature of the times we live in is this 
same fact. 

"January 11, 1873. 
" Was sent for by a gentleman of Philadelphia this week. 
He had an important matter to submit, and I went to see 
him. His important business was this: He had been com- 
missioned by the Missionary Board of the Diocese to get me 
to go around among the churches simply to raise money to 
pay our missionaries. He said they would pay me well for 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 147 

iny services — enough 'to enable me to supply my place here 
and have something over.' I asked him if the pastors them- 
selves were not able to bring out the contributions of their 
people. He said ' no.' The proposition surprised me. It 
appeared to me to be a confession of defeat — a reflection on 
our clergy. It would open one more trade in the Church — 
make one more specialty — raise up another beggar whom 
the churches would learn to hate. I declined the offer, and 
told the Doctor I thought such an offer ought not to be 
made to anybody, and I hoped he would do his best to pre- 
vent any such arrangement with any man. The Protestant 
Episcopal Church is committing suicide. * * I cannot 
wonder money is wanted, if it is criminally wasted in this 
way. How can it be possible for any Church to become so 
infatuated? If I had a million times a million of dollars, I 
would not give money to convert poor Presbyterians into 
worse Episcopalians. No wonder the Church has to drag 
in the way she does. No wonder Bishop Coxe thinks she 
is already a fossil, or has fears that she will very shortly be 
nothing more. 

" Saturday, July 12, 1873. 

u An event of some importance took place to day at ' Old 
Swedes ' church. This was the baptism of one of the Japa- 
nese girls sent to this country to be educated. She is 
under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Lanman, of George- 
town, D. C, and was placed there by Mr. Arinori Mori, 
the Japanese Minister, at Washington. While it was un- 
derstood that the instruction of these girls in matters of 
of Christian faith, was unavoidable, it was not desired that 
they should adopt the tenets of any particular sect. This 
is in harmony with a prevailing sentiment in this respect 
among the Japanese in the United States. This child is 
nearly nine years of age, and had expressed a wish to be 
baptised. 

" It so happens that " Swedes Church " as it is commonly 



148 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

called, or more exactly " Christ Church, Upper Merion " is 
not connected with any sect whatever. It was established 
by the Swedes who first settled in this part of Pennsylvania, 
in connection with the established church of Sweden. After 
our American Revolution, that connection was broken, and 
the church stood alone with a charter and constitution of 
its own, free to employ ministers as it pleased. It has so 
remained to this day, though it has uniformly employed 
ministers from the Protestant Episcopal Churches, the faith, 
and in many respects the usages of this church, being in 
unison with those of the established church of Sweden. 

" In consequence of this peculiarity of ' Old Swedes ' 
known to Mr. Lanman, through his acquaintance with me, 
this church w T as chosen as the place of baptism for the 
child. 

" The rite was performed on Saturday afternoon July, 12th, 
1873, in the open church, in the presence of many witnesses. 
These persons were invited several days previously, the 
object being not to have a crowd of persons from mere 
curiosity, and yet not to have it without some publicity. 

" It was at first proposed to use the form for infant bap- 
tism, but upon conversing with her, and examining her as 
to her faith, and general views of the Christian faith, and 
particularly of the rite of baptism itself, I thought she was 
fully prepared upon her own confession of faith. I think 
I have baptised grown persons whose convictions and views 
were not as well defined as hers. I thought she would not 
be able to read the responses, but she begged to be permitted 
to answer for herself; I accordingly used the form for adults 
as established by the Protestant Episcopal Church. I will 
add, concerning this child, that her mental acuteness is very 
remarkable, and it is by no means confined to religious sub. 
jects." 

In July, 1873, for reasons that need not be given here, Mr. 
Perinchief decided to resign the charge of " Old Swedes' 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 149 

Church," and the correspondence which ensued is excluded 
from this volume, with all his parish letters, as they were 
too numerous for its scope. 

"York, Pa., January 10, 1874. 

" It is now four months since I came to York, and in that 
time my thoughts have been somewhat revolutionized ; God 
has never permitted me to see the good I am doing, my 
only comfort is in doing. I got discouraged at Swedes, and 
scarcely had I begun my ministry here, and made the 
acquaintance of the clergy, when I found there were twenty- 
five churches to about fifteen thousand men, women and chil- 
dren, and about twenty-three Protestant ministers in York. 
The church bells are ringing all the time, and the people 
are always going to church, meanwhile I have not found a 
book store in the place. 

" This week has been a week of prayer, and I find these 
clergy have a sort of Sanhedrim. I had not believed such 
a thing possible in these United States. One had the indis- 
cretion to tell me that most of the brethren regarded this 
week of prayer as a good chance to get off of their regular 
duties, &c, a sort of holiday to listen to each other's preach- 
ing. I found I was expected to join them, even if I did 
not open my mouth ; they said, ' you know your church is 
unpopular, the people are prejudiced against it,' &c. My 
reasons for not joining them had been that I was not able? 
sick, sleepless from overwork, and it was impossible. I 
thought that instead of thinking evil of me, they would 
have helped me to bear my burden ; they would have 
remembered that God loved mercy more than sacrifice. 
Now, I concluded not to have anj^thing to do with the 
meeting. My church, however, had been put at their ser- 
vice for one Wednesday night, and I had promised to 
preside at that meeting. Several addresses were made, and 
among other things the press was denounced in many 
particulars, and I confess I felt indignant. When it came 



150 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

to my turn, instead of making the address I had intended, 
I undertook to tell the people that I thought the press was 
the mightiest agency in thought, morals, and religion, now 
upon earth, and that what we wanted was more brains and 
bigger souls, and unless we cultivated these in our schools 
and homes, our children must go out to take the best they 
could receive in the way of literature, &c. The people were 
surprised, many thanked me for the address afterwards ; 
but never before had I felt the value of manly Christian 
preaching. God had sent me to York to give me a new 
call. 

" My school gives me great concern ; how strange my 
experiences ! Last year, apd in all my teaching up to this 
time, my pupils have been dearer and dearer to me every 
day, and teaching was a joy. I have managed children 
without rules, just as I had my household. Here came to 
me children from other schools, more than I can keep 
under my own personal influence. I seem to have no soul 
influence upon them. I would give more for ten souls to 
guide and upbuild, than a thousand in a successful board- 
ing school. The man for such a place must be a complete 
machine. I have no rest, and I fear my own children are 
being neglected in real heart culture. I do not enjoy this 
teaching, or rather I do not like rules, watching young 
ladies, suspecting them, and doing all by the tap of a bell, 
is too mechanical, and I am out of my element, as it 
were. Something seems to call and say ' Go and do your 
work.' God seems to say ' I want you elsewhere.' 

" In coming here my verbal engagement was that, in 
school I was to have general charge, and was not to be 
responsible for pecuniary losses. I was to have nothing to 
do with the boarding department, except to see that it was 
right ; and all seemed to be liberal, so I went on with my 
teaching. 

" The school prospered, new boarders came in ; but after 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 151 

awhile complaints began to come from every direction, and 
I was disheartened. 

" I have always known there was need of teaching and 
preaching. I never knew it better than I do to-night. 
The last few years have found me diligent in both ; but it 
seems to me God sent me to York to learn the importance 
of both. I teach every day from four to five hours, and 
preach twice on Sunday, beside other parish duties. I know 
I am working too hard, and it may be I am low spirited, 
but God knows I do sometimes, under my observations and 
experiences, almost despair of our American people. I am 
generally hopeful, and I know men are laboring in pure 
love, for no man needs better proof of any such fact than 
his own heart ; but it does seem to me that we can have no 
rational hope of a high Christian civilization in these 
United States, unless we can first get real Christian homes. 
"When I contemplate the average school girl my heart sinks 
within me — giddy, tricky, characterless, destitute of all 
habits of study, without an exalted purpose, soulless, with 
no conception of a true womanhood — there is nothing to 
build upon. Wo money can pay a man to go over and 
merely mend the material utterly spoiled in what we call 
homes, by indulgent, unchristian Christian parents. With 
such material, schools must be taken up with mere drill. 
Hence, we have any number of people keeping school, but 
very few people teaching. Hence, the human being who has 
come to be a trade teacher had better be dead. 

" In love for children, and for knowledge and real teach- 
ing, I would rather be in the obscurest hamlet with a dozen 
souls around me, than the builder of the largest boarding 
-school that ever existed. Teaching is a holy art, but keep- 
ing school is the lowest of all drudgery. 

" Teachers and true fathers and mothers should realize 
that there are children who ought not to be taken into a 
school. There are children who make teaching impossible, 
and the person who sends his child to school with such 



152 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

children does the child a wrong. It is well enough to say 
that the worse a girl is the more she needs teaching, but it 
is wiser to reflect, the worse she is the less teaching there 
is for anybody. 

" I think it is time to change our tactics, not to let 
parents feel we are glad to get their children, but give 
them to understand that, unless their children are fit, they 
cannot come to our schools. In the public schools I would 
have a compulsory law, then I would have a school for 
these unstudious pests, and send down all boys and girls too 
mean to study. Such a place would rouse the fear or the 
ambition of the children and make school keeping unneces- 
sary. 

" Our great hope is in the middling and sub-middling 
classes. In our i upper classes,' so-called, there is a vast 
amount of ill-breeding of the worst kind. There is much 
more of earnest work and patient study among our com- 
mon school children, than among those of our select 
schools. When I think of some of the rules that have to* 
be made for grown up Christian girls, I am ashamed of my 
race. * * * 

" I am more and more convinced that a hired ministry 
is a great evil. To preach honestly under such circumstan- 
ces almost kills me ; to preach tenderly is almost impossible.. 
To take pay for preaching is base and unmanly ; I feel it- 
more and more every day. To be in the position of a 
divine teacher, and not preach according to my conscience 
is impossible, and so what with one thing and another, the 
difficulty of doing one's duty — the sense of begging or 
being a hireling — almost drives me out of the ministry. I 
ask myself, is this all that 1800 years can accomplish for 
man by the church and in the church ? Italy could not be 
worse off without her church — how is it with the United 
States ? 

" That recalls to my mind some things suggested by read- 
ing the papers lately, relative to Moody and Sankey.. Here 



LATER PARISH EXPERIENCES. 153 

are men possibly sent of God, though the evidences of it 
are not abundant. But, supposing them to be sent of God, 
they cannot go as God sends them, but deliver- themselves 
into the hands* of men, formal committees, men in the 
trade, glad of some chance to magnify their office. These 
men run poor Moody and Sankey, as Barnum ran Jenny 
Lind. These men talk as if they owned the Holy Spirit, or 
could chain the Almighty to their ignorance and selfish- 
ness. 
* * # * # * * 

" I met a gentlemen lately who said ' the spirit of our 
church was one of humbug? He travelled much, and 
wherever he went, he found the one pervading spirit of 
moonshine. He spoke of the young clergy, of their hunt- 
ing around for easy places, and especially those put into 
the church by our evangelical societies. His impression 
was, that kid gloves were too good for them, and they smelt 
like a whole drug store, and above all, knew nothing about 
theology. He said, also, go where he would he found dis- 
satisfaction, and though he always tried hard to excuse and 
smooth things, yet in heart he felt the truth of all that was 
said. He spoke of some man who was in doubt about his 
duty to go to a certain church on account of the teachings 
of ritualism there, and his fear of the influence over his 
children. He seemed to have had the sluice gates of his 
soul opened, for he spoke of a certain old general in the 
regular army, a member of the Episcopal church, who said 
to him, that the spirit of the clergy would drive a man from 
the army, if it appeared there in the canting so manifest in 
the church. He said that a man could do more godly work 
out of the ministry than in it, and that it was impossible for 
a man now to teach any truth in the church, unless it 
happened to please the young people, or any truth at all, 
since no truth would please them, and truth would not keep 
the church full. Knowing that many ministers felt the 



154 OCTAVIUS PERINCKIEF. 

inconvenience of their work, he could not understand how 

they could remain in the church. 

" I told him I wished he would go over the whole land, 

and as he went preach as he had talked to me. My only 

surprise was that plain as the truth was which he had 

uttered, yet being such a churchman he should be able to 

see it. 

* * # * * * * 

" A letter received from the bishop about W ; he 

cannot do anything for him. The church has no place for 
some of her purest souls. Yesterday I was told I must go 
and drum a certain family recently come to town. ' You 
must try and get them to our church.' This work is not 
a work of Christ — teaching mere divine things ; a work of 
study and of prayer ; it is a trade of making a church pay, 
keeping up receipts, rivalry in respectability, watching for 
and clinching to any new arrival as a spider to a fly; com- 
passing land and sea to make one proselyte, and when he is 
made, &c. Right enough, if we so think and, wish, but why 
not let men know it. The preparation for the work, to say 
nothing of the work itself, is so difficult. Young men in 
their innocence are caught and sacrificed. God will not 
hold us guiltless. I have worked in sincerity and truth, 
till I am prostrate and weary. I have pleaded with the 
church years and years for rest, but her ear is dead. Poor 

W must starve, though Trinity roll in wealth. All 

mercy is dead. God help our world. This day, Oh right- 
eous God, let my moan come up to Thee. For 1,800 years 
the church has fattened on human misfortune; 1,800 years 
it may take to die, but in the depths of darkness more 
groaning Thou did'st hear, so in the depths of darkness 
still there are hearts that cry ' How long ? Oh ! Lord, how 
long ?' " 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 



The letters written by Mr. Perinchief to his wife, running 
through a period of nearly twenty years, were very numer- 
ous ; and while they were found to be more full of charming 
passages than those addressed to his friends, it has been 
necessary to quote from them with special care, so as not 
to trespass upon the rules of propriety. 

It will be understood that the extracts which follow are 
almost stolen from a mine of superior richness. They are 
given as specimens of those cherished treasures of thought 
and feeling, which were the out-flow of a heart full of love 
and devotion ; and show how he was always the faithful 
Christian husband, trusting in a higher power, even in those 
earlier years of manhood, when at times the way was dark, 
and with his failing health, everything seemed to conspire 
to try his faith, yet without shipwreck. 

The letters to his children are introduced to show with 
what exquisite grace he could adapt his language to them ; 
and the other family letters give a glimpse into his imme- 
diate home-circle. 

" General Seminary, 
" Few York, February 23, 1857. 
" My duties on the Lord's day are very arduous. My 
Sunday school is somewhat large, and then having to preach 
beside, is sometimes a little too much for me. When I get 
home, I prostrate myself upon the lounge, and sometimes 
< the fellows ' come in and talk, but often I am alone. ' By 
the time this reaches you, we shall have advanced some 
distance into Lent. I would draw more near to my God. I 



156 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

would know more of myself. I would give myself more 
devotedly to the service of my master, I would seek grace 
to make my life coincident with my profession, lest while 
I preach to others, I myself become a castaway. The com- 
mission I am soon to receive, involves many more respon- 
sibilities than at first appear. I would that nothing selfish 
may enter into my motives. 1 would give up all for Christ. 
Pray that I may. The less of this world we have in our 
hearts, the nearer we shall be to Christ; and the nearer to 
Him, the more perfectly happy. Ask for me a double 
portion of God's Spirit, that my faith fail not. I know how 
much you wish to enhance my usefulness. May God 
sanctify our love, and cause me ever to cherish you as one 
of his best and brightest gifts. May the angels of the 
Lord camp about thee continually. 

" General Seminary, 
" New York, February 27, 1857. 

" So you will be eighteen, day after to-morrow ! How 
much I would give to spend that day with you ! How 
blessed to look out together upon a common life, common 
hopes, common joys, it may be common sorrows ! How 
blessed to offer together a common prayer, a prayer of 
strong, far-reaching faith. 

" On that day I shall think much of you ; earnestly will I 
pray for you. May He who holds all destinies in His hands, 
send across your life, no more clouds than ma}^ sweeten the 
sunshine, no more sorrows than may teach you the love of 
a Heavenly Father. All which that Father shall send us, 
shall be for our good. 

" Quindaro, Kansas, July 31, 1857. 

" When I got here, such a place ! I shall not begin to 

describe it, for you will think I am suffering. I looked 

around for a town and could not at first see one, but I saw 

the place where a town will be. I am so glad I came alone. 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 157 

Had you been with me, I would have been miserable. I found 
:a hotel, and concluded to remain there that night, expecting 
next morning to find some family in which I might get such 
accommodations as I wanted. The hotel I found to be a 
miserable place, and I had to take a room in which they 
put with me anybody, and I assure you anybody but a 
pleasant companion. I found several men of intelligence, 
and conversed with them ; they all seemed very glad to see 
me, and gave me a hearty welcome. I heard that there 
was in town but one Episcopalian family. Next morning I 
set to work to get a boarding place for you. To my utter 
consternation, I found I could not get one for myself. The 
Episcopal family live in a log hut, good people, but yet 
not having a house to live in. 

" You see everything here is in a state of formation, and 
people have not yet had time sufficient to put a shelter over 
their heads. Some are living in tents, some in log-cabins, 
very rude ones, some in the cellars over which houses are 
being put. I could not get a room anywhere. One lady 
told me her house would be soon done, and I could get a 
room there, but she is a woman's rights individual, and told 
me she lectured once on temperance, at Racine. I could 
not think of going there, much less of taking you there. 
I came back to the hotel. Here is a medle}- of men, women 
and children, all huddled together. In the Episcopal family, 
of whom I spoke, is the finest woman I have seen, and I think 
you will like her. This hotel has about it nothing private, 
the walls are so thin, being only of paper, so that a thing said 
in one room is heard distinctly in the other. How my 
heart sunk within me ! My first impulse was to run away; 
but I had more courage than that. The people have 
exerted themselves to find me comfortable quarters. 

" Next morning, I went in saddle to Wyandotte, and 
there I found things in a similar condition, except that the 
men were not so refined nor intelligent. The site of the 
town isbeautiful, but it will never amount to much. More 



158 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

disheartened than ever, I came back to Quindaro. I then, 
thought of hiring a part of some store, and having it fixed 
for a dwelling, till I could get a house; I soon found this 
entirely out of the question. The conviction came home 
more and more irresistibly, that I could not be married 
till I had a house of my own. I threw myself down and 
wept for relief. I thought of you, and I never had such 
a trial before. I thought how like a funeral knell it would 
fall upon your ear, ' perhaps not till next spring.' ' How 
could I live.' But this my subsequent experience has 
confirmed. 

" I took a little room in the hotel, and Oh ! such a miser- 
able place ! I can't stay here, so I have hired a cellar and 
intend in about two weeks to move into it. I have no place 
in which to put a book, no place in which to write, or do any- 
thing. I have no place except a grove in which to preach. 
What shall I do ? I see that Quindaro is likely to become a 
great place ; my first impressions are sustained by my obser- 
vations. I came to bless the people. I cannot therefore 
desert them. You are my greatest concern; I have con- 
cluded you would not have me belie my nature. I have 
looked up, and God gives me grace to feel He will not 
forget my trials and labors of love. It is hard in the midst 
of conflict to abide in faith, hard to feel that the path of" 
duty is that of safety. 

I said I thought this would be a great place, I cannot 
now give you my reasons for thinking so. I must work for 
these people, they have given me five lots of ground for a 
church and parsonage. The} 7 have offered me five more for 
the future church of Kansas, if I will build them a church- 
now by my influence at the east. I yesterday wrote several 
letters to gentlemen at the east to know what I should do.. 
I think I shall have to go there myself; if so, I will see you 
on my way. I shall not be able to hear for a month, and 
so till the expiration of that time, I cannot tell you of my 
arrangements. I have told the people I must have a house,. 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 159 

and that I shall attend to first. Don't let this letter trouble 
you, I hesitated about saying anything, but I saw clearly 
you could not come here till I had a home for you. That 
home I shall lose no time in getting. Painful as is my lone- 
liness, painful as is the thought of yours, I can still endure 
both better than seeing you subjected to the vicissitudes of 
such a life as you would have to lead here now. 

" Quindaro, Kansas, August 26, 1857. 

" I returned from Leavenworth Monday evening, and 
here I was met by your letter ; I was despondent and lonely. 
I knew 1 should find the letter, and was wondering how you 
would meet the announcement which I had made to you. 

" My happiness in finding you so resigned, so hopeful, 
even venturing to encourage me ; so womanly, so Christian 
like, caused me to shed tears of gratitude before God, in 
that He had given me the affections of one so noble, so 
devoted. God bless you for your letter, for the love which 
prompted it. Continue your faith in the mercy of our 
Heavenly Father ; He will never leave nor forsake us. 

" My health is pretty good, so you need not give yourself 
any unnecessary concern. * * * I still expect to be mar- 
ried in the fall. They have hired a hall, yet to be completed, 
and I have engaged board for two, with a gentleman who is 
building a fine house. 

" I did think of going to St.. Louis for this winter, and, 
indeed, I do not know but I shall yet. The house is not 
done, nor the hall either, and, when they will be done can- 
not exactly be determined. I wrote to Bishop Hawks, and, 
if he thinks I can make myself useful in St. Louis, if too, 
I can there make you happy, I shall, in all probability, go 
there. At all events I shall leave here soon, perhaps this 
week, it is impossible for me to remain here as I am now 
situated. If I can make a definite arrangement with these 
people, I shall leave until the house and hall are done, and 
then I shall, with you, return to this wild and lonely town. 



160 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" I can bless these people if you will come to bless me. 
God will reward you for it, and I will never forget such a 
love. 

" I will not ask you to remain many years. I will labor 
for Kansas, study and read ; and, when I can get a man to 
relieve guard, I will return to the east, and try to make you 
happy. 

" But go on with your preparations, something may yet 
turn up so that we can be married as we designed. If we 
cannot, then spend your time in reading, prayer and reflec- 
tion. Be cheerful ; if this be our first cross for Christ's 
sake, be assured He will not suffer it to lose its reward. Let 
us look up, and trust. 

" Brooklyn, New York, April 24, 1858. 

" It is getting late; the footfalls are less and less frequent 
'on the echoing street. I cannot retire, however, before I 
say a few words to you. I arrived safely on Thursday. I 
found Mr. and Mrs. Middleton expecting me and you, too. 
They were much disappointed in not seeing you. * * * 

" Dr. Tyng I have not been able to see ; poor man ! 
you know he has lost his son, Dudley. He is now away, 
and to-morrow evening will preach his funeral sermon. 

" My brother arrived here the same day that I did, from 
Bermuda. He is to leave for Bermuda, next Thursday, but 
my friends will not hear, a word about my leaving IsTew 
York, especially to go home. 

" It is not very healthy at the south; yellow fever has 
been already brought from the West Indies, and my friends 
say I am weak, and had better stay where I am, keep still, 
live liberally, and so recruit. I think I will take their 
advice. 

" I am very comfortably situated, indeed, and I am gain- 
ing gradually. My appetite continues to improve, and I get 
stronger every day. The doctor and my friends insist on 
my keeping still, except, of course, that I take an occasional 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 161 

Tide. I have, therefore, given up all idea of going to Ber- 
muda, now, and intend to wait here until I am better, and 
then begin to look around for a parish. 

" Yesterday I missed you so much. I read the service in 
rthe morning at Christ's church, Brooklyn. I had invita- 
tions to preach, but I would not. I shall probably preach 
in the same church next Sunday morning. My health is 
•so much better, I feel very much recruited indeed ; and, I 
think, all being well, in a week I shall feel really strong. I 
shall be very careful, however, how I exercise. 

" When I shall return to Glen's Falls, don't ask me. You 
may depend upon it I shall return as soon as I can. I wish 
to look around here and see what can be done, and when 
my health is re-established, I will then go to work ; but my 
friends say, keep still live or six weeks, certainly. Don't 
expect me then within that time. 

" Brooklyn, New York, May 8, 1858. 
" For some days I have felt quite strong; how thankful I 
feel ! Since I last wrote I have seen Dr. Tyng. He thinks 
I had better not stay in New York or Brooklyn; if I stay 
here I will grow worse instead of better, and the responsi- 
bility of a parish here would be too much for me. I partly 
agree with him. On the contrary, in the country I will get 
plenty of exercise ; have very little, comparatively, to do — 
and, it may be, in two or three years be very strong and 
hearty. He did not like the idea of my being married; 
none of my friends like it. I have said nothing. They 
don't know all we know; God knows, and he will provide 
for us. Our wants will have to be few; we will have to 
•exercise much self-denial. Our trust is only in God." 

Written from home when his wife was on a visit to a 
friend in New York, for her health : 



11 



162 octavius pemnchief. 

" Mount Savage, 
" Sunday Evening, June 3, 1866. 

" The old blue code of Connecticut prohibited a man from 
kissing his wife on Sunday; but I know of no law which 

prevents his writing to her. Miss and I have taken a. 

sort of quiet tea, and talked our little talk. The children,, 
baby and all, are snug in bed and fast asleep. The servants 
are chatting away in the kitchen ; the rain is corning down 
out-doors, and I feel very lonely. 

" It rained so, I did not attempt to go to Frostburg this 
afternoon. I read a little, and then entertained the chil- 
dren, and showed them pictures. We sang together; I 
played for them on the flute. Helen looked very wise, and 
tried to lead the singing. After they had their supper, we 
talked about you, and I told them I would tell you they had 
been good girls, and so they went off to bed. I miss you. 
more and more. It is very seldom I get a leisure moment, 
but yesterday I visited my treasure, your old letters, and 
went back over the past awhile. I found they grow better 
and better, as they come this way. 

"I look back upon our married life, now nearly ten years;, 
there are shadows upon it; it has seemed sometimes as- 
though our anticipations, the happiness we hoped for, had 
escaped us. But there is vastly more sunshine in it than 
shadows, when I think of you, think bow every affection of 
my heart twines around you, how wretched I would be 
without you ; when I think how, at home here, we live in 
each other and for each other, think of those precious hours 
of sweet, close communion, to say nothing of our little ones; 
just think how completely we are part of each other, one 
only the other's self. I feel that our anticipations are more 
than realized. God has blessed us beyond what we expected. 
My heart, like yours, runs over in gratitude, and I pray for 
grace that we may be more thankful still. 

"Why! think of these very Sunday nights; how many 
of them we have spent in sweet and holy conversation; the 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 163 

thought of them is a treasure in itself. We have gone out 
upon the world strengthened and brightened. I thank God 
for you, and pray to him for more of his spirit upon you, 
and upon me, to enable us to live closer to him in every re- 
lation of life — to show how thankful we are to him, that he 
heard our prayer in the long ago, and granted our petition. 



"Mount Savage, Alleghany Co., Md., 
" June 12, 1866. 
" Went over to Rose Hill Cemetery ; our little grave there 
has been somewhat cared for this spring. The honeysuckle 
I planted has grown up very nicely, covered over the little 
frame I made for it, and now climbs upon the railing. I 
thought of you when I was there and prayed to God for his 
benediction upon us and upon our little ones, that we may 
be spared to them, and that they by our instrumentality might 
be trained in His fear and for His glory; thanked Him too 
for all that He had been pleased to give us, for I felt they 
were ablessingtous,even the one He had taken, for although 
that one is in Heaven, I think He blesses us as He draws our 
hearts thitherward. 

" Gibraltar, Ohio, Sunday, August 9, 1868. 
"I enjoyed my ride to Boston very much indeed. Old 
times were revived as I rode through scenes which I had not 
looked upon for many years, days of my poor boyhood, and 
struggling college days came back, clays before those in which 
I had seen you. Then at Albany, the last time I was there 
you were with me. It was in our early wedded life, before 
cares had multiplied around us, and prospect was sanctified 
by reality. What an interval lies between ! an interval of 
struggle, of some disappointment, and yet of great and con- 
tinued blessing. Not all we had hoped for has been real- 
ized. It could not have been best for us that it should be. 
All that we had hoped for would not have been possible. 



164 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

It has been Lest just as it is. The cup we have had to drink 
has been mingled by Our Father, and all His minglingsare 
out of His love; many are the joys and blessings we have 
had of which we did not dream, rich and full ; many are the 
privileges and honors in our Father's house of which we 
have not been worthy ; but which God has compassionately 
given us. I felt I could not be too thankful, and I felt too, 
that if I had been at any time unhappy, it was because I 
had not counted up all my mercies, because I had selfishly 
asked too much. When I thought of some whose prospects 
had been better than mine, and asked myself where these men 
were now, I could not help feeling that God has led me and 
blessed me. Yes, my heart went up in gratitude. 

" One thing greatly diminished my enjoyment, it was your 
absence. If I only had the means to give you a trip, to take 
a trip with you, up through that country and your own girl- 
hood associations, for your health's sake, for the sake of the 
joy in reviewing together our little lives. Oh! it is when 
I get away and think over these things, that I realize what 
a blessing you have been to me; what a blessing we have 
been to each other. How could we have done without each 
other ? And shall we not by and by, when life is all over, 
when we have time to review it, and see things in it that we 
see not now ? And shall we in thanklessness and thought- 
lessness put anything in it we ought not to put there ; which 
we shall wish we had not put there ? 

" It is true life is very much of a struggle, but are we not 
where God has put us ? We are right in the midst of the 
storm, and shall we not try to exert all our power till we 
get safely through ? All have their woes, we must expect 
ours, and if they can only be sanctified, " they will work out 
for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 
I say gladly, God has put us where we are. It would be the 
very joy of my heart to be able to do more for you. But 
how helpless I am. The cup my Father has given me must 
I not drink it ? In the meantime has not God helped me in 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 165 

the one desire I had to live for His glory ? Have I not been 
trying to do the will of Him who sent me ? Last night, 
almost as soon as I got in the house, I was told by a man 
whom I never saw before, and who lives a long way off, that 
I was doing a good work in a place where such work was 
needed to be done. 

" We must learn to pray more earnestly, ' Thy will be 
done,' and yet while I write it, I am reminded that it is by 
the leisure and refreshment I enjoy to-day, that I am able 
to have these thoughts. And there you are without rest, 
without recreation ! But are the thoughts any the less 
valuable, ought we not to try earnestly to rise up to them ? 
Oh, may God give us grace, day by day to lay up precious 
treasure in heaven ; to commit our way more implicitly to 
His guidance, never mistrusting His love. * * * 

" God's hand be over you, and His spirit with you. May 
God bless my little ones. 

" Gibraltar, Ohio, August 13, 1868. 
"Asl was sitting on the lawn yesterday, and thinking of 
you, I took some grass that was growing beside me and 
wove it into a little braid, and now I send it to you, as a 
keepsake from Gibraltar; a sign of how our destinies are 
woven together, though two, yet how completely we are 
one. This w^orlcl is not wide enough to divide us. As 
those two fibers fashion each other, lean each upon the 
other, a mutual shape and impression, so may our two lives 
blend and result in one holy eternity. * * * You 
observe that they are a little awkward, and straggling at 
first, but afterwards their regularity and harmony are even 
and continuous. The length of the thread is the only limit 
to their union, so were our beginnings somewhat, so will be 
our continuance ; our souls being immortal, our union can 
never end. Have not they all things, who in love to God 
and in an abiding sense of His abiding presence, have the 
fullness of each others love ? Let us cling more closely to 



166 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

each other, and to our Father, for our own sake, for our 
children's sake, for the sake of the now and the hereafter. 

" Gibraltar, Ohio, August 16, 1868. 

" To-day is Sunday, and it has been a very blessed day 
to me. I have enjoyed it more than any Sunday for a long 
time. 1 have prayed earnestly for you and for my children, 
for God's blessing and guidance ; that He will be our pillar 
of cloud by day, and our pillar of fire by night. I went 
over to church this morning, and heard a very good sermon 
on the resurrection. 

" At dinner there were some opinions expressed relative 
to some of Paul's sayings. This morning for the first time, 
there was some theological discussion. But if all I have 
heard to-day, be true, then have I studied and sought to 
understand God's word, much in vain. I did not take any 
part in the discussion. I think that possibly I have not 
been thinking in vain, and possibly God has permitted me 
to put in my sermons, some thought which will be good 
news to some men. If I am called away from my work, 
try to get some of those sermons printed and published 
for men to read ; they may be a blessing. My sermon on 
the resurrection and various subjects, let them have a chance 
to live ; and if they are only hay and stubble, let them perish. 
I look to God to give me views of the real truth above, I 
have tried to make them gold and silver and precious 
stones. 

" The thought w T as suggested, or rather the question was 
asked, whether there w T ould be any family in heaven. There 
was no discussion ; some thought not. We have no evi- 
dence, but I think many things indicate that there will be. 
At any rate, I hope so ; with all our imperfections we, you 
and I, want to be together. Our love, our many trials along 
this life, do they not make us dearer to each other. Can I, 
can you, find any soul we can want closer to us ? Surely 
no soul can now, by any possibility, be joined to us by any- 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 167 

thing like the same experiences ; I derive great comfort and 
hope from the thought that you and I shall be together. If 
God has ordered otherwise, then He will order that we 
should acquiesce in it : but my prayer is, he will order that 
we shall be together. My belief is, He will so order it. I 
may be your guiding star through circles and cycles larger 
than these we have below, and I think it will be given me 
to be a kindlier guide than I have been. We know not all 
God has reserved in heaven, but these things may be part 
of our heavenly heritage. Then, if our children can all 
come to us, one by one, and theirs to them, Oh ! what joy 
and holy eternal blessedness. The cares of that world will 
not be like those of this world. We shall look down upon 
cares, as I am looking down now, from a position of rest, 
and as I trust you shall be able to do, in October, when you 
go to Cumberland. God bless you and those dear little 
ones; I cannot tell you how I think about them, I feel we 
must endeavor to place ourselves where we can do more 
for them than we are now able to do, may our dear Father 
in heaven guide us for their sake ; I commend you and 
them to His care and His blessing. 

" Boston, May 23, 1869. 
" This morning I preached in an old, wealthy, and dead 
church. To preach to such a people, is like preaching to 
a field of old stumps, and about as hopeful. I took a 
collection, but do not know the result. 'I do thank 
God, and have, every day this week, and every day more 
and more heartily, that we are not rich; that our lot is not, 
and has not been, cast with the rich. I tell you the rich can 
hardly enter into the kingdom of heaven, whether they be 
clergy or laity. . May God deliver my children from ever 
being rich ; may He bless them with bread ; but, above all, 
with the bread of life. Let us never more crave exemption 
from trial, especially that kind of trial we have had. It 
keep us from a proud, selfish, and dead heart. If that is 



168 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

our cross, and I confess it is a cross, to see our little ones- 
want, and not have it in our power to do as we could wish,, 
still, if that is our cross, let us cheerfully take it up, and bear 
it. God will make it a blessing to us and to them. After 
a hundred years we may all be together in the happy world, 
and that will be worth a thousand crosses, and so it will 
turn out that we had all we wanted: grace, to bring us to 
heaven. I cannot tell you how my heart has grieved over 
the dead rich people I have seen. But let us be humble 
and contented, and try to be Christians ; let us not be merely 
the resultant of circumstances, but let us do everything 
' willingly,' i heartily, as to the Lord,' then we shall have our 
reward in the true riches. We are companions in the cares 
and anxieties of this life — may our Father keep us, that we 
may be companions in the joys of the life to come. If you. 
and our dear children can only be brought to the same 
blessed world, and those humble holy souls that we love, 
with those that are already with Christ, then we shall want 
no more, nor hunger any more ; we shall be saved ; how my 
heart prays for that.' 

" God bless you, and my dear, dear, children. Tell them, 
Pa loves every one, and sends a kiss to every one, and 
thanks every one for those flowers. 

" The little buttercups were very sweet, and made me feel 
more homesick than ever. 

" Boston, May 25, 1869. 
" Another day of disappointment and ' beating the air.' 
This is terrible business trying to interest people in this work 
of ours. I called this morning on the Bishop, had a talk 
with him, and got him to give me a letter to a lady who was 
not at church on Sunday. I took the letter and called on 
the lady ; everything magnificent as the world calls it ; great 
brown stone house, statues, paintings, servants, < Dives in 
purple and fine linen,' but it was no use; she would not 
even see me. Then I went offin other directions, but men. 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERLNCHIEF. 169 

full of business; others again gone to Newport; one thing and 
another, till here I am with my foot dreadfully swollen and 
paining me. Were it not that I am learning much which I 
hope to make use of in the future, I should wish myself out 
of my present office. Of all things we ever do, let us never 
wish ourselves connected with riches. The devil is in them. 
I do not say this because I cannot get money from these peo- 
ple, but because I feel that we are all relying too much on 
money. Great stone churches, fine houses, large salaries, 
&c, which has brought the church to the level of the world ; 
and I see the rich full of pride, taken up with vanity, soul 
all gone, thinking their gain is godliness, no sympathy, no 
true riches of any kind. My experiences have taught me 
something. The Scripture rings in my ears, " What shall it 
profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own 
soul." It deeply impresses me, and I think what if after all 
my striving, my hoping, my works upon earth, I am still 
only after " flesh pots," only putting up with trial because 
I cannot help myself; if after all I have not taken up a cross, 
not known the truth, the regeneration of the spirit of Christ ; 
not preached what God put in my soul in order that it might 
be preached, but have only pandered to my times and fallen 
in and floated with the tide. I hear men preach nonsense 
and smooth things, and when I ask them why they do not 
preach what they know the people ought to hear, they say 
4 the people will not stand it.' As if our office were to de- 
ceive the people. 

" The Dr. lives in good style, very good, too good for a 
man of God. The curtains and cornices on which they hung 
in the room I occupied last night, cost possibly as much as 
all the furniture of our bedroom put together. Still I did 
not feel that I wanted to live that way. When I looked at 
the house and grounds, then at the inside, I distinctly felt I 
did not wish to live so. I do not know why or how it is, but 
I feel that is not the way for an ambassador of Christ to live. 
It does very well for the rich, but not for the poor; and I 



170 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

would a thousand fold rather minister to them. I could not 
help feeling, as I lay in bed thinking, ' where is the cross of 
this life, such a life as this; what sacrifice or self-denial 
does it demand, even if the people are willing to give it.' I 
think it makes the receiver more indebted to the gospel than 
the gospel to him ; since we are all so much more indebted 
to the gospel than the gospel to us. I may say it makes 
the receiver dependent on the church rather than the church 
dependent on him. I think I can see this very plainly 
in our great city, fashionable churches, a show outside, great 
leanness inside. I have sometimes felt that my own people 
might do more, but I see, or think I see, that some men have 
a way, a clerical, dignified way of asking for it, demanding 
it, can't get along without it ; but I know you would not 
have me one of these any more than I would desire to be 
one myself. Now, if we submit to privations or narrow 
circumstances because we must — then where is the virtue of 
it ? If we have them not — then where is the cross ? What 
offering after all do we make to God ? But if we do this 
thing willingly ; then, as Paul says, we have a reward. One 
thing we have for our comfort, we have never gone out just 
to make aplace for ourselves. I think we never shall. God 
grant we may never be 'hired servants ' but faithful chil- 
dren of Our Father.' 

" Middletown, Connecticut, May 28,1869. 
" It is a little late and I am excessively weary, having 
been on the go the live-long day, yet I cannot resist the im- 
pulse to write to you. How different are the circumstances 
under which I am now writing, from those under which my 
last letter to you from this place was written. Possibly you 
have forgotten it, but I never can forget. What an interval 
lies between! I cannot tell you how my heart has been 
moved throughout this last twenty-four hours. I reached 
Hartford yesterday afternoon ; that place has wonderfully 
grown and improved, and I think it is one of the loveliest 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 171 

cities I have ever seen. Everything looks prosperous, and 
the people look happy. Last evening I noticed ladies, 
many of them, in some instances alone, walking after nine 
o'clock as happily as if it were noon-day, along a crowded 
street, in perfect security. Still there is enough of the place 
left as it was for me to realize it was Hartford. The old 
college, my old room ; for, it so happened, the young man 
I wanted to see occupied my old quarters. Professor 
Brockelsby, Dr. Jackson, the walks, the trees, all seemed 
to whisper to me. Oh, when I thought of those old days, 
the loneliness, the privation; days when I was friendless, 
days when you would never have owned me if you had 
known me. When I thought how God had lifted me up, 
and blessed me; how our little ones can never know what 
I have known, how they have a place in life, a starting 
point. When I thought how God in his goodness had done 
all, my soul melted in gratitude, in thanksgiving and prayer. 
I felt, in looking along our life, that the blessing had all been 
greater than the cost. It seemed hardly possible I could 
have been there four long years. I remembered what Paul 
said, 'these light afflictions are but for a moment;' and when 
I remembered the joys we have experienced, I felt those light 
afflictions had worked for us a far more exceeding and eter- 
nal weight of glory.' So may it be with us. Not I alone 
have had trouble for twelve years; you and I have had it 
together. There is a reward for that ; our reward will be 
together. May it be great ; that it might be, the service 
must be great. All this bears upon what I have said in 
some of my letters. 

"I wished for you to-day. Oh, how I missed you ! I 
thought only of you. I want you to see Hartford. It 
can never be to you what it is to me, but I want you to 
know something of it. In the upper world I shall owe so 
much to that place. You and I will owe so much to each 
other. I could wish our recollections to be as nearly iden- 



172 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

tical as possible. If God wills, when I come this w r ay again 
I must bring you with me. 

"I called on dear Mrs. Hoadley. You remember you 
have heard me speak of her. I feared to ask for her lest 
she might have passed away. But there she was the same 
as ever, and her family just as it was, with one or two ex- 
ceptions. They were glad to see me, but of course not so 
glad as I was to see them. Dear old lady, she did not know, 
does not know now, what a service she did me. I wanted to 
stay there a week. This afternoon I took the boat and came 
down the river as I have often done in times gone by. — 
Beautiful country ! I came here to Middletown, where I 
find things just as they were; the town has been fixed up, 
trees have grown, things look neat and comfortable, but the 
city itself is not much larger. I went over to the Berkeley 
divinity school, and saw the young man I wanted to see; 
the bishop was not at home. Found one or two old ac- 
quaintances; went up round the college, and now I am 
writing to you. My soul feels full. How I would that I 
could give my children the benefit of all my experiences ; 
that I could impress upon them all that life is. I must try 
for that. How T I wish that I could make them feel the bless- 
ings they have received of the Almighty, that they might 
walk worthy of their privileges ! We must try to teach 
them. To-night I thank God more than I can tell you. 
You, too, must join in thanking him. I thank him for 
you. Whatever crosses we have had to carry, you have 
been a good wife to me. God gave us love for each other, 
and in giving that, gave us all things beside. Our life has 
been a happy one, and might have been happier, had our 
worthiness been greater. Let us only live and be thankful, 
and take up our cross in love to God and love to man, in 
devotion to that Saviour who took up the cross for us both. 
Let us accept and acquiesce in what our Father sends. Let 
us do our best for those dear ones God has given us. Let us 
seek to train them that they may be worthier than ourselves ; 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 173 

then, as the joys even here below are solid and great, the joys 
and rewards of the world above will be 'beyond all that has 
entered into our hearts to conceive.' 

" Gambier, Ohio, October 1, 1869. 

*' Another morning dawns upon me in health. I had a 
very hard day yesterday ; out at nine o'clock, and talking 
the live-long day, 'till half-past ten at night. I had students 
and professors to see — some pleasant cases, and some ugly 
ones. I was excessively weary last night, and felt very much 
as I have often done after preaching all day. I slept well, 
however, and this morning feel a little of what I call " Mon- 
dayish." I get so weary sometimes, I do not know what to 
do with myself; stopping in private families is all very well, 
and every body is very kind, but there is a measure of 
restraint about it, and, really, I only rest when I get to a 
hotel. 

" Gambier is a lovely place just now. The weather is of 
that delicious kind, peculiar, I think, somewhat, to the 
west, though, very delightful everywhere. This country all 
through is still rough as compared with ours. The larger 
towns are very pretty, and some of the farm houses are very 
neat, and have every appearance of comfort. One cannot 
see any of the large barns so common in Pennsylvania,, nor 
do the houses have the appearance of age, that we some- 
times connect with long prosperity ; but things look thrifty. 
The people on the train which brought me here impressed 
me. They were chiefly people of that sort which go out to 
settle new countries. Some of them were talking of St. 
Louis, and parts beyond that ; one man had his family — his 
wife, a strong fat woman, two daughters — one married, and 
had a baby with her, and some five or six boys ; three of 
them heavy six-footers, just the kind of stuff to subdue 
prairie land, pull down forests, and make way for civiliza- 
tion — types of a real nobility, that truly heroic stuff, brave 



174 OCTAVIUS PEBJNCHIEF. 

enough to grapple with the hardest possible life, and make- 
their posterity and all the future their debtors. 

"I could not help feeling, yesterday, in looking upon the 
people of the congregation, of the contrast between them 
and our people east; that is, between the best people this 
way and that. I suppose there were men who, if singled 
out, and compared with given individuals in the east, would 
have marked no great difference, but, taken in the aggre- 
gate, the interval was great. Time does tell, refinement 
comes after awhile; culture has a better chance in the 
Atlantic States, and possibly just at present our eastern cities 
furnish the best possible opportunities, a happy mean, 
between our west and the over-polished, artificial society of 
Europe; many little elements, which money cannot buy, 
are furnished from a refined and cultured atmosphere. 

" Columbus, Ohio, October 2, 1869. 

; ' On Monday, November 1st, I start for home, L e., you 
and the dear ' wee things ' with jou. I do not forget that 
to-day is my birthday; I have not often hitherto remem- 
bered it when it came ; some how, this one has been in my 
mind several times. I am to-day, you recollect, just forty ; 
by some means or other, that period of life is regarded as a 
solemn one. It is the half of four-score, the period beyond 
which few lives extend. To me this birthday is doubtless 
far over half of all I shall ever see, probably over the two- 
thirds, possibly not. 

" Forty years ! I have seen many a day in which I had 
not the remotest expectation of seeing this day. Most 
wonderful and merciful have been the dealings of God 
with me ; almost beyond my own ability to believe. From 
the first twenty years no human being could have predicted 
the second twenty. God has led me in a way I knew not, 
and, in both twenties, I think it is very plain to me that He 
has led me. Certainly, in this second twenty, I have com- 
mitted my way to Him, and my heart gave out to-day in 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERLNCHIEF. 175 

far-reaching prayer that He will still guide me. It is a 
comfort to me that your prayers are joined to mine. You. 
know something of these last twenty, with all their troubles, 
how full of blessing. You have been joined to them, not 
the smallest, not the least item in them ; that one item which 
to-day makes my heart overflow with gratitude to God, 
that element which smoothed the years, and filled them full 
of contentment, and made possible whatever of usefulness. 
I have been able to accomplish. 

" Though when cares have come and hours have been, 
overclouded, I have felt the burden of life ; it is in days like 
these when I stand and solemnly look back, I feel without 
a wife I could not have lived ; I feel with a wife other than 
the one I have I could not have been blessed as I am ; when 
I look at my children, at all my belongings, I feel you have 
been a blessing to me, and I thank God that in all his giving 
He gave you. 

" These thoughts have been running through my mind 
to-day, seeing before me as I do, not very distant the anni- 
versary of our union, the recurrence of the day on which 
you and I blended our destinies and set out on our eternal 
journey. 

" God bless you ; * * * my life is your life, your life- 
is my life ; now, come what will we are forever joined, and 
henceforth every year is a unit to us both. What we look 
upon to-day as our life, has been by your struggle as well 
as by mine. Who can tell but God has twenty years more 
for each of us here together, to make this life a full and per- 
fect unit. It may be so ; there may be, beyond all doubt 
will be, trials and sacrifices for us. We have not reached 
the promised rest, but there may also be much of happy 
fruition. I feel now that life has a more definite shape to 
me than ever ; that I can do, and ought to do, abetter work 
than ever ; that much of the past has been to us both the 
season of sowing. 

" Our little ones begin to rise into rich and blessed prom- 



176 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ise. My ministry has risen to a point of partial recognition 
and God manifests to us that we have a work yet to do, in 
its nature greater, yet in its nature easier too ; as the finish- 
ing of a structure is always nicer, but yet filled with a richer 
satisfaction. 

" Let us pray to God for his presence with us still. We 
have tried — you know how we have tried — to walk in truth 
and righteousness. God will bless us, God has blessed us; 
the past is His pledge, He will not forsake us. Let it be 
our pledge, we will still walk as we have tried to walk, in 
all fidelity and humility ; in love and sincerity — having 
the one object before us of doing good to our fellow-men 
and so serving God. Let us pray for our precious children 
that God will give them divine peace and wisdom,and that 
we may be to them divine guides. Love and kisses to you 
and to them, and may God's blessing be upon us all. 

" Logansport, Indiana, October 15, 1869. 
" I wrote you about an hour ago a very hasty line, at the 
hotel, supposing that by this time I should be on my way 
to Chicago. Upon coming here I find the train an hour or 
two behind time, and consequently I am doomed to wait. 
The waiting I would not mind so much, if I only had a decent 
place to wait in — but such a depot, and such a set of people ! 
I will not describe the stove now in this room, nor the floor. 
The people here at present are beyond description. Many 
countenances are expressive of an acquaintance with ' old 
rye,' of perhaps not the very best quality. Some look anx- 
ious and heavy-hearted; some are just the fellows for tear- 
ing up roots and getting ground ready for culture. A party 
has just come in, a wagon load ; three men, and two women, 
father and son and son-in-law, mother and daughter. The 
younger pair just married, possibly; the bridal presents 
appear to be confined to apples, of very large size, the 
choicest bestowments of the fall. I thought, as I observed 
them, that the young man whom I took to be the brother 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERLNCHIEF. 177 

•of the bride, manifested a great amount of genuine affec- 
tion, as he handed out the red corpulent emblems of his 
good wishes, a pleasure and affection often wanting to more 
pretending offerings on similar occasions. By the way, in 
■the journey yesterday from Columbus, we had two newly- 
married couples. One was certainly married yesterday 
morning, for the friends came to the cars to see them off, 
and I heard a description of all the scenes, from the younger 
sister's getting out of bed at day-light, down to the last kiss 
at parting. This was a couple of some refinement, and the 
whole scene was very agreeable. The other couple was of 
humbler station, but evidently respectable, belonging, I 
judge, to the farmer class. Of the brides, I must say I 
thought the humbler one the healthier and handsomer. She 
had a very simple way with her, very charming in itself, 
making up in innocent naturalness what the other bride had 
in social culture. I queried in my mind whether one were 
much happier than the other. Both seemed as happy as 
they could be ; both sights were beautiful ; no shadow rested 
upon either. I could not help reflecting how absolutely 
"both cast themselves upon the man of their choice, and how 
absolutely both husbands accepted and recognized and 
rejoiced in the responsibility. I thought that, reason as we 
will about society, man's place and woman's place, God 
knows best, and nature, in her normal laws, is our best and 
highest guide. 

" The road on which we were all travelling was one of 
the roughest it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. 
It was very dangerous to be on it, and I reflected that, 
whether man or woman, husband or wife, higher sphere or 
lower, life is a dangerous experiment, and the jolting and 
pitching are alike impartial and equal, and that with plenty 
•of love we don't mind it much, and get along very happily 
in spite of contingencies, absorbed in that we have all things 
else. This last reflection brought me back, of course, to 
you and our joint pilgrimage together. My experience, 

12 



178 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

you see, added force to my cogitations. We have, now and 
then, had a hard jolt, which has drawn our eyes from each- 
other's faces, and set them to looking wildly out upon noth- 
ing ; but the magnetic power inside has brought us back to 
each other, and the jolts themselves forgotten. This is not 
fan I am making, it is sober earnest. Verily our journey 
has been full of blessing. 

" I write now on the train, which has made up time, or 
perhaps writing the above has caused the time to slip less 
heavily away, and I have been unconscious of its progress.. 
This morning, almost the first thing that greeted me on 
getting out of bed, was the writing upon the white part of 
the paper on the wall : ' 0, what sorrow I have endured ! ! ' 

" I could not make out whether it were the wail of some 
wronged, despairing soul, or some exclamation of relief at 
having gotten safely out of such a bed ; but the train is off,, 
and it shakes so, I cannot write. 

" Chicago, 5 o'clock p. m. 
" You see I have arrived safely at this Western Babel, 
just one thousand miles away from you, ' at each remove 
dragging a lengthening chain.' I think that is what Gold- 
smith says, only I don't feel very poetic just now. I have 
eaten the first dinner here that I have had since leaving you. 
I don't know whether I ate with the more appetite because 
of old associations. 

" Chicago, October 16, 1869. 

" How strange that I should be here in this same house- 
which you entered just twelve years ago as a bride. Twelve 
years ! What have they not done for us ? Twelve years, 
and we together, one in purpose, in hope. 

" It is all well enough to feel we are not worthy of each 
other. We felt so just twelve years ago, and if time has 
only impressed it more deeply upon us, it is one of the best 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 179 

evidences we could have, that we have not been disap- 
pointed. 

" Twelve years of struggle and suffering, and yet twelve 
years of unspeakable blessing. When I look upon life, 
with its show and glitter, and perhaps its comforts, and 
realize that we have been to a great degree cut off from 
them, I feel that you at least know why we have not sought 
them. We have not worked for money, nor for self. You 
know our sincerity, our singleness of eye, and I assure you 
I would rather have that consciousness, now, than thous- 
ands of gold and silver. I believe you would, too. Is it 
not in itself great reward ? Has it not hope, transcendent 
hope, in it, both for this world and that which is to come? 
When I think of what you have gone through for me, or at 
any rate, with me, my heart holds you, as it holds nothing 
else upon earth. When I see how God works for those 
who love him, I go out to another and a better world ; and 
then I carry you with me. Oh, I think our day of rejoicing 
is before us, forever and forever. 

" This fading, perishing, outer world is not the. only one 
you live in with me. We live in thought, in purpose, in 
love — in a world above this world. The providence which 
has brought us together, will keep us together; the road 
has been one, the home will be one. The thought tills my 
heart to-day with joy, as I doubt not it does yours, too. You 
are all I have on earth except those precious children, which 
are yours and mine together. Oh, let us lift our hearts to 
God in thanksgiving. His way is better than ours. He has 
proved it to us; let us commit our way to Him more de- 
votedly than ever. He will grant us years yet upon earth, 
years 'till our work is done. Hereafter let our thankfulness 
every day drown out our complaints; and may our journey 
be one of song, of peace, of faith, and holy, pious serving; 
then every day will be sweeter than the last, and eternity 
full of the fruition of time. My prayer to-day is for His 
Spirit to be over me, and so may it indeed be over us both. 



180 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

"York, Pa., April 18, 1874. 

" Your letter from Georgetown, I enjoyed very much. I 
am very thankful to the people there for the kind reception 
they gave you ; I trust the trip will do you good. 

" I received to-day a very kind letter from Mr. Risdon, of 
Mount Holly. He says the people are delighted at our 
coming, and w T ill do all in their power to make us comfort- 
able. 

" I have sent in my resignation here. They all say they 
are very sorry, and the vestry appointed a committee to 
confer with me to obtain, if possible, a withdrawal of the 
resignation. This I could not do, and upon the whole, think 
we have done well, in doing what we have. 

" Sunday Evening. 
"I have had an easy day of it, so far as preaching is con- 
cerned. I have not been out at all this afternoon ; I have 
had a dreadful pain in my right lung, and it has been hang- 
ing there for more than a week. Fischer was glad to 
preach, and I let him do so. 

" Mount Holly, July 3, 1874. 

" I will take time just to write a few lines to you. My 
heart is with you, and in my work and fixing here, I have 
the hope that you will truly enjoy it. I cannot tell you how 
much I like Mount Holly. I have this morning been off* 
horseback riding with my neighbor, Mr. Brown, and a very 
pleasant ride I had. 

u You have not seen the half of the charms of the place, 
and I cannot describe them if I try. I think though that 
you and I will enjoy some of these walks together. Yes, all 
of them, when you are not tired, when walking will do you 
good. Up the road past the mountain it is lovely, and yet 
it is scarcely a step from our house. * * * * 

" I am counting so much on your happiness here that it 
makes me happy to think of it. 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 181 

" I now go to dinner, a lonely sort of an affair, but things 
are getting to rights considerably, and we will be ready for 
you long before you are ready to come. 

" Mount Holly, July 8, 1874. 

" Your letter of Monday is received this morning. I am 
very glad to hear from you, to know you have not been ill 
for any length of time. I was very much afraid that exces- 
sive heat had been too much for you. Yesterday and the 
day before were most exquisite days, just cool enough, no 
dust, the air clear, everything beautiful. In my walks I 
could not help a feeling of thankfulness that our steps had 
been guided to a spot in all respects so agreeable, some of 
the walks are just perfection, so peaceful, and yesterday I 
discovered that the boating up the river is delightful. You 
can go up any distance, through meadows and under trees. 
Boats are kept for hire, not over beautiful I judge, but large 
and safe. 

" For the two days of this week I have been out making 
calls. I find the people all of one sort, nice, cultivated peo- 
ple, but without any pretensions ; kind and hospitable. I 
think you will like them. I see nothing here to make us 
unhappy except the smallness of our means, but apart from 
that, we will have what money cannot buy. The children, 
too, all seem well behaved, not dressy, but modest, quiet 
dren, both boys and girls. 

" At the Cedars, Barnegat, July 20, 1875. 
" Mr. Levis brought me your note yesterday. Dr. Strat- 
ton came down last night, and through both I hear you are 
all getting along splendidly. Down here we are enjoying 
ourselves. On Sunday I had an absolute rest. I did noth- 
ing whatever. The salt water bath I took on Saturday night 
put me to sleep and I have not been so truly sleepy for years. 
There are not many people here, and that gives us the better 
chance. The fare is good, plenty of fish and oysters. We 



182 OCTAVIUS PERINCRTEF. 

have been out fishing several times and have been very suc- 
cessful. Mr. Sprigg is the champion fisherman so far. 

" I am writing now early in the morning; we are going 
off to-day for a whole day's fishing, taking our dinner with 
us. Mr. Sprigg has just gone by and says 6 give my love to 
everybody/ though he don't want to write to or hear from 
anybody. I have just asked him when they think of going 
home, and Mr. Sprigg says ' don't tell them anything about 
it, we don't want to go home for several weeks,'' but the prob- 
ability is we will take the morning train next Saturday, but 
I shall not stay over this week. 

" Mr. Levis is writing to his wife, and in his letter he has 
enclosed a photograph of me, taken as I appeared at the 
wharf when I went down to meet him. 

" God bless you, love and kisses to the children." 

A letter to his Eldest Daughter. 

" Baltimore, Md., May 19, 1870. 

" My Precious Little May : We had all hoped to get a 
letter from Cumberland this morning, but the postman did 
not come. We suppose Mrs. Tilghman has been too busy to 
write. We hope you both got safely along on Monday, and 
that by this time you are both rested from your journey. 
I came home on Monday evening from Philadelphia, and it 
seemed very strange not to find you here. We miss you 
every day, very much. Mamma and Lucy, and Nelly and 
Tilly, often talk about you. It is quite cool here this morn- 
ing, and mamma was afraid you would need a warmer sack, 
but we knew you were in good hands, and that something 
would be found to keep you warm. 

" The children have gone out in the yard, to see if they 
can^find a violet for you ; they cannot find a violet, and so 
they put in all the flowers our little garden has in it. They 
have been very much taken up with some crabs mamma got 
for dinner. The man brought them just now, and they were 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 183 

alive, and Mary put them in a kettle to boil them, and they 
looked so odd, the children were very much amused. Mamma 
is busy with her sewing, but she sends you many kisses, and 
a great deal of love. After the children got the flowers, 
they each one put a kiss in for you, and told papa to tell 
you that they love you a great deal. 

" Papa expects to go away to New York to-morrow morn- 
ing, and he will not be back before next Monday or Tues- 
day ; he will write to you again when he gets home. Papa 
kopes you will not forget to be a good girl, and to mind all 
Mrs. Tilghman and Miss Fannie tell you. It was very kind 
in Mrs. Tilghman to take you home with her, and you must 
ftiy and not make any trouble for them. Don't forget to 
read a little every day, and by and by write a little letter to 
us all. Tell us how you like the dear little baby ; Tilly was 
talking about little Martha until he fell asleep, last night ; 
he said how glad he would be to see her ; you must kiss 
little Martha for us all, and give our love to Mrs. Tilghman 
and Miss Fannie, Mr. and Mrs. Frisbie Tilghman, and all 
the dear good people who ask you about papa and mamma. 

" And now, my dear child, papa prays God to take care of 
you, and to make all the kind things that are done for you, 
.a blessing to you. 

" Hoping to get a letter to-morrow morning, before I go, 
I am your own affectionate, Papa. 5 ' 

Letter to his Children. 

" Gibraltar, Ohio, August 15, 1868. 

" My Dear Little Pets : Papa is a long way from home, 
xipon a pretty little island in lake Erie. 

" A lake is a great deal of water in one place, with land 
all around it. An island is a piece of land with water all 
around it. There are many islands in lake Erie. The island 
on which I am, is called Gibraltar ; it is a pretty place, and 
*very pleasant. It belongs to Mr. Jay Cooke, a brother of 



184 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

the Mr. Cooke whom you know. If you see Mr. Cooke, you- 
can tell him where papa is. 

" There are many clergymen here, and I enjoy being here 
very much; I go out every day in a boat. Papa often 
wishes you girls and mamma were here with him ; he would 
take you all out in a boat with him. Papa thinks of his 
dear children and mamma nearly all the time. I hope you. 
have been good girls, and that Tilly has been a good boy... 
You are good children sometimes, but papa hopes you will 
be very good children now, while he is away from home.. 
Try and save mamma all the trouble you can. 

" I write this to May and Lucy, because I hope they will 
be able to read it to Nelly and Tilly. Papa sends much 
love and many kisses to you all. Tell Nellie I often won- 
der how she can go to sleep without papa to kiss her good, 
night. 

" I cannot tell you exactly when I shall be at home, but 
I hope before many days. 

" Papa prays God to bless you all, and dear mamma, and 
to take care of us all. 

" Yours, in great love, Papa." 

Letter to Mr. Middleton from Mr. Perinchief's Mother. 

" Bermuda, July 28, 1857. 

"Dear Sir: Your letter of 29th ult, arrived safely to- 
hand, and allow me to return you my sincere thanks for 
the past as well as the present interest which you have 
taken in my son. I have learned long since that you were 
his friend, and thrice happy am I to learn from you that you 
think yourself repaid. 

" Octavius has, I believe, made it a part of his study to 
make every one his friend with whom he has been ac- 
quainted, and by very many I believe he is beloved. I have 
not been able to do much to aid him in his pursuits, but the 
Almighty has guided and protected him in sickness and 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 185 

health, and through Him I pray he will ever be befriended. 
I have nothing now left to bring joy and gladness to my 
heart, nothing to strengthen my weak frame; I may say, 
nothing to desire to live for but my dear children ; and al- 
though we have been separated for a long time, yet they 
have been the comfort of my life and joy of my later years. 
Never be weary in well doing, for surely you will reap a 
reward. You will notice this is not in my handwriting, as 
my eyesight is so very bad I can scarcely sign my name. 
Please forward any letters to or from my children which 
may come under your notice, and believe me, your sincere 
friend, Martha Perinchief." 

From Ms Brother, Josephus Perinchief. 

" Bermuda, Sept. 19, 1862. 

"My Dear Brother: Your welcome letter of August 
5th to dear mother arrived safely, and happy were we in 
again hearing from you, for it had been so very, very long 
since we heard, that we were afraid you were so situated as 
not to be able to get a letter to us ; and it was the greatest 
desire of mother to hear from you again before she died, as 
she was under the impression that something very serious 
had happened to you. 

"The arrival of your letter gave her great satisfaction; 
she thanks God for his blessing, in keeping her alive to 
hear from you, and to know you are comfortable ; sympa- 
thizes with you in the death of your dear boy; and is look- 
ing forward to that happy day when you will meet her in 
the arms of Jesus. 

" Poor mother had been sick for a long time, and not 
being able'to take the food which nature required, she be- 
came worse, and her complaint (consumption) increased 
rapidly on her, but she would get up, and dress lightly, and 
move from one room to another at pleasure, resigning her- 
self to the will of God, knowing that her stay among us 
was but short, and that her work was nearly finished. 



186 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" On the 27th of August, she was so weak as not to be 
able to get out of bed; and she had taken a dislike to all 
the little preparations which were made read}' for her, so 
that from that time up to the day of her death she took 
very little of anything. 

*.*•*-<« gj^ gjjin retained more strength than we 
would suppose, and her reason was good as long as life 
lasted. 

" On the 8th of September, we found she was sinking 
fast, and on the eve of that day her spirit returned to God, 
who gave it. She died without a groan, in the sure trust 
of bliss eternal through the Saviour. On the following 
day, her remains were placed with those of her father and 
mother, in Port Royal church-yard, by her request. Her 
funeral was attended with the greatest respect by both rela- 
tives and friends, far and near." 

Extract from a Letter written to Mrs. Perinchief, after the Death 
of her Husband, by his brother, Josephus Perinchief. 

" Bermuda. 

" I feel sadly grieved at the departure of my dear brother, 
and your sad bereavement; yet why should I grieve, it is 
far better for him to be with Christ, but although we feel 
this assurance, our poor nature will give way to sorrow at 
the death of dear friends, and weep for them too. 

" I thank God for His love and mercy to you in that great 
trial, in granting you health and strength to nurse him and 
attend to his wants. What a comfort it must have been to 
him and to you. My heart pours forth its sympathy for you. 
I know you must feel lonely, but cheer up, he cannot come 
to you, you must go to him. God grant you strength to 
bear up under your burden of affliction. Cast your care on 
Jesus, He has promised to care for you, look to the great 
work to which you are now called, the oversight of those 
dear children. See what a responsibility devolves on you. 



LETTERS TO MRS. PERINCHIEF. 187 

I know this great work has not been left till now for you to 
begin alone, for Octavius has been walking with God from 
his youth, and you must have been doing the same, or he 
would not have chosen jou for a companion through this 
life's journey. ***** 

" Octavius was one of those men, with whom even ene- 
mies are at peace. 

" His first great object in life was to make God his friend, 
then all joined, or seemed to have a special regard for him. 

" What an honor I feel it to be to have had such a brother, 
and so must those feel who have been in any way connected 
with him. 

Extract from a letter to Mrs. Perinchief from Adeltah Perin- 
chief during the last illness of his brofher. 

" Brooklyn, New York. 

" Poor Octavius ! My heart yearns to be with him to 
render him what little assistance I might be able. I am 
sorry he felt so badly when he found I was gone. It seems 
as though an over-ruling providence had so controlled our 
lives as to cause us to be separated all through life, (perhaps 
more than they might have been if we had directed them 
otherwise,) and at the close of life to have been able to com- 
fort him at all, is a great comfort to me. 

" God will truly bless you abundantly for your earnest, 
and self-sacrificing devotion to him through his entire sick- 
ness ; such devotion can never go unrewarded, and in this 
hour of great affliction I earnestly pray that I may utter some 
word that shall cheer you. May you be kept from all evil, 
though all may seem to us dark and unpropitious. 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 



In a former chapter of this volume, the reader has 
probably observed a striking allusion by Mr. Perinchief, to 
a warm personal friend, named Thomas D. Middleton. 
That gentleman was a native of Bermuda, and having come 
to this country at an early day, was for many years a promi- 
nent merchant in New York city, but residing in Brooklyn. 
Having known something of Mr. Perinchief when a boy, 
he naturally took an interest in his welfare, when the latter 
became a resident of New York, and the intimacy which 
existed between the two, lasted until Mr. Middleton returned 
to his native island in 1872 ; a friendly intercourse however, 
having been kept up by correspondence, until the death of 
Mr. Perinchief. When the preparation of this volume was 
entered upon, one of the first appeals for information was 
made to Mr. Middleton, who, like a true man, responded 
in a prompt and handsome manner. From his extensive 
correspondence he selected the letters which form the con- 
tents of this chapter. One of the letters addressed to the 
editor by Mr. Middleton, breathes such a noble Christian 
spirit, that by way of introducing the subjoined correspon- 
dence, a single paragraph is submitted, viz : " I have made 
a selection of Mr. Perinchief's letters, and send them to 
you in order that you may use them, or portions of them, 
or not, as you see fit. I also send you a copy of what he 
wrote in presentation copies of his sermons sent to my 
uncle Mr. Dickinson, and to myself. Both seem to have a 
bearing on the object you have in view, but I am not solici- 
tous of more notoriety than seems proper to illustrate his 
-deeds and feelings. Be3 T ond this I care not to be conspic- 



190 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

uous. You know this is an ill-natured world, and apt to 
misconstrue often, the best of motives. 1 suppose that in 
Mr. Perinchief 7 s account of his own history he will have 
stated all that he desires his friends to know, but if there 
be any points that you desire to be enlightened about, I 
shall be happy to aid you if I can. I learn from his brother 
here, that he was born in Warwick Parish, on October 2d, 
1829. As regards myself, his repeated expressions of 
gratitude in his letters to me, and his prayers, have fully 
rewarded me for all I did for him. I feel thankful that I 
was permitted to help him. 

" The following was written by Mr. Perin chief in a volume 
of his sermons presented to my uncle, Mr. Dickinson, who, 
at my instance, interceded with Mr. Perinchief 's uncle to 
make him an allowance of one hundred dollars per annum, 
towards his expenses at college. I think it was only for a 
year or two, when the uncle died, and his estate refused to 
continue it. He received a small legacy, while at college, 
of, I think, about six hundred dollars, from a Mr. Powell 
Prudden, and these two sources constituted all his means 
from his friends towards attaining his profession. His 
uncle was Joseph Perinchief. I believe Mr. Prudden was 
a relative, but I don't know the relationship : 

" To Josiah Dickenson, Esq., to whose kind interest and 
instrumentality the writer of these sermons is much in- 
debted, this volume is gratefully presented. 

" 0. Perinchief. 

" Philadelphia, Pa., July 1, 1869." 

The following was written by Mr. Perinchief, in a volume 
of his sermons presented to Mr. Middleton : 

" To Thomas D. Middleton, Esq., but for whom, in the 
providence of God, the writer of these sermons had prob- 
ably never entered a pulpit — with the hope and prayer that 
herein he may find some of that ' bread cast upon the = 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 191 

waters' though 'after many days' — this volume is now 
presented by his affectionate and grateful friend, 

" 0. Perinchief. 
"Philadelphia, Pa., June 11, 1869." 

" Wesleyan University, 
" Middletown, Conn., February 6, 1851. 
" I am now, I hope, permanently settled for college life. 
Having arranged my affairs, 1 repaired to Dr. Williams' 
study, and informed him of my determination. I told him 
of the change in my views since I last called on him. He 
asked if I had consulted with my friend, as I had promised 
to do; if that friend was willing; if he were a churchman; 
and to whose church he belonged ? To each and all of 
which I satisfactorily replied. He thought it strange, and 
intimated that you were a queer churchman to advocate 
such a move as that, and added that I might get a good 
education here, but that I would undoubtedly get a better 
one there. He gave me a letter of dismissal, and said that, 
perhaps, when I had been here a little while, I would wish 
to return ; if so, he would be most happy to extend the 
same assistance to me he had now offered, and that I might 
come here and stay till my senior year, then return there, 
or go to some other Episcopal college, and thus secure my 
diploma from an Episcopal institution. He asked my 
reasons for changing my mind so soon. I told him, that 
on reviewing the reasons for my leaving, and comparing 
them with those for my remaining, you had concluded the 
former by far the more worthy of consideration, and to 
your opinion I felt myself bound to yield. He seemed to 
manifest some apprehension that the Methodists would 
make a great effort to lead me into their church, and as a 
kind of defense against all such assaults he promised to 
introduce me to Mr. Goodwin, (the Episcopal minister of 
this place,) and in some measure to place me under his 
care. Dr. Williams said he would like to see you, for he 



192 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

felt sure he could make you chauge your views in reference 
to Trinity College ; but, with all he said, and with all that 
others have said, my opinions remain unchanged; for with 
all they can say, I feel the superiority of the course pur- 
sued at this college. Situated as I am, in the midst of 
so many and great dangers, how liable am I to be led away. 
Pray God that he will ever preserve me in the fellowship 
and communion of His Holy Apostolic church, that new 
health and strength may be given me to develop the mind 
with which he has endowed me, to His honor and glory; 
and that, in avoiding Scylla I may not be swallowed up by 
the surges of Charybdis. 

" MlDDLETOWN, August 8, 1851. 

" Everything has passed off pleasantly, the term has 
closed, excitement has subsided, the students have gone, 
and I find myself left, almost the only tenant of these 
ancient halls, the companion of the whispering breezes, 
enthroned in the stillness of solitary retirement. In the 
midst of associations such as these, many and solemn are 
the thoughts which press themselves upon me, which, though 
keen and deep, I am unable to express, commencing with 
my birth, and piercing even the veil which shuts my sight 
from dark futurity. Two years ago, I left the crowd of the 
city, the din of business, the haunts of happiness, (for there 
I passed many happy days,) I resigned the hopes of worldly 
fortune, the scenes of gayety and pleasure, for the seclusion 
of the country and the monotony of the study. In analy- 
zing the motives which urged me to action, in marking the 
spirit which has actuated me since, I think I can sincerely 
and safely say, that my only aim was, and has been, the 
glory of Him who brought me out of darkness into his 
marvellous light, the good and happiness of my fellow-man, 
the promulgation of the Gospel of Jesus, and the extension 
of the kingdom of the Prince of Peace. And this day, on 
what am I premitted to look? On one continued stream 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 193 

of success, one perpetual shower of mercies from God. In 
permitting me to go to school, He not only enabled me to 
do the duty I designed, but even more ; and in college He 
has blessed me beyond all my expectations. In the midst 
of discouragement, surrounded by dismal forebodings, He 
has sustained me from sickness and death, He has delivered 
me, and now permits me to look upon the bright prospect 
of maturing my most sanguine desire. While many who 
started under more favorable auspices, whose physical 
structure was stouter and stronger than mine, and w T hose 
mental endowments were brighter, have passed from the 
stage of action to the narrow limits of the tomb ; while inher- 
iting natural failings, with unhappy dispositions, they have 
perverted their faculties, despised morality, and acquired 
habits, which at once expel them from the society of the 
wise and virtuous, God has mercifully extended to me my 
usual physical strength. He has enabled me to maintain a 
good moral character, and I am permitted to enjoy in good 
degree the esteem of those, by whom I am surrounded. 
But for all this success, next to God, I am indebted to no 
one more than to you. When misfortune and poverty 
seemed to threaten annihilation to all my hopes ; when 
trouble and anxiety had well nigh dethroned my purpose ; 
when all was dark around me, and no ray of light was 
"before me, you interposed your kindness, extended your 
aid, and brought relief. Moreover, when you had succeeded 
in securing assistance for me from others, which in itself 
had been more than I could at all expect, you went even 
beyond, and overstepping the requirements of friendship and 
the injunctions of Christian charity, voluntarily and liberally 
offered to administer of your own substance, and that, too, on 
terms of purest benevolence. When clouds gathered thick 
about me, when the pathway before me was wrapt in obscu- 
rity, you were true in your counsel, and indefatigable in your 
efforts for my welfare. Modesty would forbid me here to 
enumerate your many labors of love and magnanimous 

13 



194 OCTAVIUS PEBJNCHIEF. 

acts. Long as I live shall I be indebted to you, every day 
shall but increase that indebtedness, and throughout rny life, 
such a benefactor shall ever claim the highest eminence in 
my memory. I enter upon my sophomore year, with feel- 
ings of less embarrassment; and I do it, too, with renewed 
resolutions of study and application. 

" Middletown, Conn., March 26, 1852. 

" Once more I am called upon to praise that hand which 
has scattered its blessings so profusely about my path, and 
which, in every hour of danger, has been outstretched to 
rescue me. God has once more sent me a token that his 
approving smiles are upon me, that the mark toward 
which I press is one which He would have me reach, that 
I, feeble offering as I am, am nevertheless one whom he- 
designs to accept. ' God will provide,' is a text for whose 
counterpart no Christian need look beyond his own experi- 
ence, and of the certainty of which no mortal ever enjoyed 
more undeniable evidence than I have. Where can the 
man be found whose entire life has been made up of more 
signal blessings ? What was I five years ago ? Poor, igno- 
rant, and friendless, Handed on these shores amid strangers,, 
with no father's hand to guide my wandering steps, no 
mother's care to protect me from the shafts of Satan, no 
better monitor than the unholy, natural heart I bore within 
me. Who provided then ? Who still provides ? My spirit 
clings to God, and ever I can look up and feel that in Him 
I have a father and a friend. 

" I long to be done with college, not because I find no 
enjoyment in the pursuit of study, or that I am disgusted 
with its dull monotony, but because it seems sometimes to- 
me as though I were living only to myself, and I have 
doubts whether my usefulness hereafter, will counterbalance 
the value of the time I am spending, in preparing myself 
for that position from which it must issue. College is, of 
all places in this world, least congenial to the Christian 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 195 

soul, however paradoxical it may appear to you. Here 
there are trials to be endured, which cannot be understood, 
except by him who has once experienced them. Yet I still 
drink at the fountain of grace, and find my soul refreshed. 
Yes, God will provide, order, and bring to pass. In His 
hands I leave my future. My money matters are much 
easier than I expected. I had no idea that there would so 
much money accrue to me from my uncle's estate. I 
assure you it affords me no little happiness to be able to 
refund to your firm the money they have advanced, from 
time to time, and I feel in no little degree under obligations 
to them. 

" If I mistake not, I mentioned to yon in a former letter 
something about my returning to Trinity. The causes of 
the change my mind has undergone, I shall endeavor to 
express. Experience, they say, is a dear school, still, I 
believe its teachings are worth all they cost, and my experi- 
ence has taught me that the change I made one year ago 
has done me no good. True, all the circumstances are not 
the same. My chief reasons are these : I can live cheaper, 
I don't want to teach school any more in winter, and, 
because, by so doing, I can save one year in my studies. 
Besides this, the class which I left are anxious to have me 
return, and so is Dr. Williams. He tells me he will give 
me a scholarship which shall clear all college expenses, 
except incidental charges, for the first year, and even a 
a little more during the second. I do not wish to teach 
school, because I find I am a loser by it. The time we 
spend in college, even where we remain through every 
term, is quite little enough, but if we take four months out 
it leaves a very small balance, and I find my health by no 
means improves under it. The greatest reason is this : 
You are, perhaps, aware that, since I left Hartford, they 
have established a theological school there in connection 
with Trinity. Now, in our senior year, we have no very 
difficult studies to pursue, and the study of theology here 



196 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

does not require so much time as is generally devoted to it. 
I think if a man would give his attention to it closely, he 
could obtain in a year and a half what it takes three jesirs 
to get in the senior class in Wesleyan University. I can 
gain a year by taking theology with my senior studies, thus 
saving not only the time, but also the expense of an entire 
year. Besides all this, in church associations, I feel like a 
child that has wandered from its home, and feels anxious to 
return. I am desirous of returning this coming term, 
which commences in about four weeks ; for, in a year from 
this time, if I live, I shall need all the assistance I can get. 
I have thought a great deal about it, and I have concluded 
it would be better to go back. I do not like the idea of 
graduating anywhere except at a church institution, and I 
should not like to graduate here. However, I submit it to 
you, and may I not ask you to let me have your views on 
this subject during next week. If I am to go there, I shall 
want to make up my mind soon. There were some other 
things I wished to mention, but I will not trouble you with 
them now. I cannot, however, help expressing my thanks 
to you for your kindness in making me the offer you did in 
your last ; or rather, I should say, I don't know how to 
express my thanks. It is the hardest work in the world to 
write a letter of gratitude. You do not seem to like them 
either. 

" I shall feel happy in remembering that I have a place 
w T hich I can call home, when I visit your city. Ten thou- 
sand thanks to you, and Mrs. M. No one is more apt to 
undervalue his actions than he who performs deeds of 
charity from motives purely generous and benevolent. No 
one is more apt to give such actions the proper degree of 
estimate, than he, who in a consciousness of need, without 
any claims whatever, receives the benefit of such actions. 
Who, then, should be the judge between us ? 



letters to thomas d. mlddleton. 197 

" Wesleyan .University, 



" Middletown, Conn., March 8, 1852. 
" I wrote sometime since, to inform }^ou that I had 
undertaken to teach school. Having finished my engage- 
ments in that quarter, I have now returned to college, and 
have succeeded in entering my class. Laborious as the busi- 
ness of school teaching is, I cannot say that I feel much the 
worse for having embarked in it. The people among whom 
I have been laboring have treated me as well as I had reason 
to expect, and in many instances even better. The extreme 
severity of the winter, however, has taken away a little of 
my flesh, which I hope to regain during spring, should 
circumstances prove propitious. My chief object in writing 
to you at this time is to make a proposal similar, in some 
respects, to one partially agreed upon in a former part of 
our transactions, but which was limited by no definite under- 
standing. You are aware that hitherto I have been pursu- 
ing my studies under circumstances of uncertainty, at no 
time free from pecuniary embarrassments; at one time 
trusting to the generosity of an uncle, and anon looking 
forward to the proceeds of a winter's school to defray my 
expenses, although I would by no means forget the many 
instances in which my cares have been mitigated by your 
friendly aid. I need not say that such circumstances are 
peculiarly harrassing to me, and my object is to place 
myself in a position in which my numerous wants will not 
be attended with corresponding anxieties. Situated as I 
am, I get nothing but what I pay for, and while many of 
my wants are supplied by the kindness of friends, (which I 
rejoice to say it has ever fallen to my lot to secure in every 
place in which I have remained for any time,) still in order 
that friendship may be permanent, there are many things 
which it demands in return, thereby making the outlay 
nearly equal to the income. After a retrospective view of 
my actions I cannot charge myself with extravagance, and 
when I, compare my expenses with those of others, I see no 



198. OCTAVIUS PERINCHIBF. 

room for such a charge. I cannot be mean, it is not policy 
to be so, you would not have me so, and although I have 
almost wished to be mean, I nevertheless feel I should be 
miserable if I were. I received a letter from home a short 
time since, in which I was informed that the amount of 
mone} 7 " left me by my deceased uncle is about $300, it may 
be a little more or a little less. This I think will almost 
pay you what I already owe you, and this is the end to 
which I purpose to appropriate it when it shall be placed 
at my disposal, which I am informed will be in a few weeks, 
and here let me -say, I shall direct the executors to pay it 
into your hands. 

" I received for teaching, this winter, seventy dollars and' 
my board. After paying my incidental expenses for the 
time during which I was teaching, and the debts which I 
had contracted here for clothes and other things during the 
past year, I find myself with little more than a cent left, 
and disappointed in my expectations of paying, out of it, 
my board, tuition, and clothes bill, for the remaining nine 
weeks of this term. As far as I can gather, I stand in just 
about this position, that (throwing out of consideration my 
expenses for this term) when that three hundred dollars 
comes I shall be out of debt. Now the proposition or pro- 
posal which I mentioned, is this : Will you allow me to 
draw on you for any amount of money which I may need, 
not exceeding one hundred and fifty dollars per year, and 
to give you, as security for your money, a policy of insu- 
rance on my life, for any amount which will cover my 
liabilities, say for five hundred dollars, the first year or two, 
with the distinct understanding that this money, or such 
money as I may draw, together with interest, amount paid 
for policies, and all other dues, be refunded within one, 
two, or three years after I have completed my studies, 
according as my income will then permit me ? I know 
you offered to let me have money, but no plan was proposed 
by which your money would be secure in case anything 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MLDDLETON. 199 

happened to me, and the possibility of your losing it would 
he as bad to me as my not having it to pay my way. I 
refrain from saying how great an obligation I should be 
placed under to you, should such a proposal coincide with 
your views. Next to the great donor of all gifts I owe to 
you my success thus far, and the probability is, if I am 
-successful till the end, it will be only to increase that debt. 
Will you favor me with a reply as soon as your delibera- 
tions will permit, and be free, open, and candid with me? 
When that money comes, let us have a general settlement. 
Will you also inform me as to how much it will cost me to 
-visit my home this summer ? It has been five years since I 
was there ; I have a mother and friends who eagerly antici- 
}iate a visit from me; my own heart no less desires it, and I 
wish, if possible, to go. 

" Quindaro, Kansas, December 5, 1857. 
" I think I was not wise in coming to Kansas. You know 
when I left New York I was not very strong, and it seems 
to me now I might have known I could not endure the pri- 
vation and exposure of a new country. It is one thing to 
wish to labor in Kansas; it is quite another to be able to do 
it. In counting the cost, I thought the exposure would not 
be so great, and I reckoned too much on my own strength. 
Do not think that I am desponding; I am weak, it is true; 
my old energy has greatly departed, still I think I have 
pretty good courage. I am pained and grieved when' I 
think how little I have done since I came back, and I would 
like to know who would not under the circumstances have 
become a little discouraged ? The weather is so inclement, 
I hardly dare go out, and in the house I am too sick to 
study. Your letter certainly was encouraging. You opened 
so many rich prospects, but you rightly used the expression, 
'if my health were spared.' A man can do nothing with- 
out this. This, however, brings me to another topic in your 
letter, about which I wish to say a word. I am sorry that, 



200 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

in an act of my life so important as that of my getting 
married, I should for once go beyond the limits of your 
approval. Here, again, the thought turns upon 'limited 
circumstances.' You go on to mention the case of your 
friend, whose troubles pressed heavily upon him, and con- 
clude by saying, there must be something to 'make the 
kettle boil.' Now, my dear friend, is not this taking a very 
low view of marriage, and is it not reducing life itself, in- 
deed, to a very low standard ? That a man should begin his 
ministry laden with cares is certainly not desirable, nor is it 
any more desirable that those cares should come upon him 
at any period of life. But is it right to call those cares mis- 
fortunes? Are people of wealth happier? The fact is, care 
and trouble are the common heritage of men. They do not 
always come in the same form, but no degree of prudence 
will arrest them; and in my particular case, how do I know, 
that I will be any better off three years from now, than I am 
at present? Nay, is it not morally certain that I will not 
be? And what should I gain in the interval? How many 
kindly affections should I develop ? Nay, when my habits 
for single life are all fixed, why get married at all ? A man 
never loves in mature life what he did not love in compara- 
tive youth. Where real love is not, real happiness is not. 
What then is gained by deferring the union of two souls that 
do love ? Crush the affections until you have blunted their 
susceptibility; form tastes and sympathies on an indepen- 
dent, it may be on a different, basis; yet married at last, out 
of policy, on mere expediency, and not from the promptings 
of sanctified love, not from a desire to meet the highest and 
noblest duties which can attach to man — >and what will prob- 
ably be the result ? But, get married in the fear of God, as 
soon as, to human penetration, the way is open, and what 
blessing, real blessing, will be- wanting? Take this very 
instance. If I had not been married, I should not have had 
the expense of a wife; but who in my sickness would have 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 201 

nursed me as she has ? Who would have so loved me, and 
thought of me, and worked for me ? 

I tell you, sir, that love and sympathy are not all poetry, 
or, if they are, they are not less a reality. They come home 
to the soul, they strengthen it, and lift it, and bless it, and 
so are just as real as pots and kettles, and infinitely more 
precious. This subject lengthens out, and I fear to detain 
you, but you say : 'yes, it blesses you, but what it costs her V 
What does a tender child cost a mother ? What does a 
perishing crew at sea cost the heroic heart which perils its 
own safety to save them ? What do my exertions and anx- 
ieties for my friends cost me ? !N"o, sir ; put love in the 
main-spring of action and 'privation,' 'trouble,' and 'suffer- 
ing,' change their meaning. What would I give for that 
love which would not 'hope and endure,' and be patient? 
What would I give for a heart which cared only to share my 
joys ? Methinks your friend forgot the dignity of that toil, 
which provided for those he loved, and did himself an 
injustice when he relapsed into repining. I would be far, 
indeed, from saying that there could be no such thing as an 
imprudent marriage; but when a man has arrived at years 
of discretion, when he is as rich as he ever expects to be, 
when God gives him the heart of another, truly to love him, 
I should doubt his wisdom if he still remained single. To 
be sure, I may find myself surrounded by many embarrass- 
ments, I may see many hours of dark perplexity ; but amid 
them all, if I can work, I shall never despair. Labor in this 
world may be, and often is, the parent of happiness. Should 
you consult the opinion of philosophers on this subject, I am 
persuaded you would think me not very far from right. Dr. 
Johnson was no mere theorist, and he advocates early mar- 
riages. Ben. Franklin was the most practical of all philos- 
ophers, and he has left a very clear exposition of his views. 
He advocates early marriage, especially to those of moderate 
circumstances, showing its advantage, upon every principle 
acting in the economy of life ; and what say the Scriptures ? 



202 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEE. 

What say the ancient servants of God ? Oh ! my friend, 
is it not that we reduce this matter too much to a mere 
temporary arrangement, a mere social institution ? God 
designed it for all His children, and, judging from the tenor 
of Scripture, He has blessed it, particularly to the poor. 
He who took in Him our nature that he might lift us up to 
God, was the son of a poor woman. Can God take care of 
two when they are apart, and yet not of two when they are 
together ? 

"Mt. Savage, Allegany Co., Md., April 2, 1859. 

" The more I see of Mt. Savage, in contrast with other 
places the more I am thankful that my lot was cast here. 
It is a country place, to be sure, but a country place under 
circumstances peculiar. Money matters give me no sort of 
concern ; as the month comes round, the money comes too, 
and, during the month, many things come which no money 
could buy. There is wealth, great intelligence, and refine- 
ment, on the one hand ; there is ignorance and poverty on 
the other. There is piety and love in both. There are few 
Episcopalians, but there are many Christians. No other 
clergyman is resident here, and I try to be a pastor to all 
alike. I never felt so much the desirableness of preaching 
the simple Gospel. I find by ignoring all peculiarities, 
they like me all the better. I have more time for reflection, 
study, all which constitutes life, and I do not know that I 
could anywhere be happier. There is some danger of rust- 
ing a little, it is true, but no one place on earth combines 
all facilities. 

" I feel better now than I have felt for some years, and 
good health, to my mind, comprehends every blessing simply 
mortal. I have no anxiety as to church matters, except so 
far as to teach my people all I can. I have no fears as to 
being called ' high church ' or ' low church ;' no rival churches 
are here. We have no pews to let, for the church is free, 
and, thank God, generally full. The same people listen to 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 203 

me from Sunday to Sunday, and I believe we are growing 
in grace. I do not suppose another man in the country 
preaches to a more mixed congregation — Christians of every 
name mingle in our worship, and to all I try to speak a 
seasonable word. Such. is the life of the rector of St. 
George's, in Mt. Savage — obscure, but hopeful. 

" Cumberland, Md., April 14, 1863. 
" God's promise to us has been verified. ' In the days of 
dearth they shall have enough.' In the summer time the war 
came pretty near to us, one battle was within twelve miles, 
and another no great way off; the sound of the guns dis- 
turbed us, but beyond that we have suffered little. In the 
meantime things have cleared up considerably. I think you 
will agree that the prospect before us this year is far brighter 
than it was a year ago. Down here we have made a long 
stride ahead. Maryland is a free State ; the white people 
are free, free as a statute-book can make them, though much 
remains for schools to accomplish. When I look around 
here and know things which I learned not by hearsay, I feel 
that this war has been an unspeakable blessing already, and 
the physical and moral effects of it, I look upon as only the 
prelude to a great spiritual effect yet to come. After the 
storm conies the ' still small voice ;' I know many men who 
have been three years in the army, and I believe every one 
of them to be twice the man he was when he went awa}^. 
I have yet to see the first man who in the army has been 
demoralized. I do not consider them saints by any means, 
but if I can see a man advance toward a nobler manhood, 
I take courage. 

" Baltimore, Md., February 19, 1867. 

" I have had two or three calls. One from Wheeling and 

one from Saint John's Church, Georgetown, D. C. This 

latter parish is not very large, made up of very nice people, 

and requiring no great amount of labor ; they are united 



204 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

among themselves, except so far as political opinions vary ; 
they sent me a call at a salary of $1,800 — with the promise 
of soon raising it; I went down there and saw them, I have 
just this moment written accepting the call, my services to 
begin the first Sunday in March. I cannot move my family 
immediately. I must wait until I get a house. Mr. Gra- 
ham advises me to take this charge ; it is a place he was 
anxious for me to take several years ago. One of the vestry 
told me yesterday, he thought they would keep a horse for 
me, and that my income would be considerably larger than 
my salary. There are some men of means connected with 
the church. I have thought the matter over, and this is the 
best I know how to do. They agree to give me a month or 
six weeks' vacation in summer, which will of itself be a great 
help to me. I shall be near Alexandria where there are 
always clergymen, whose services I can procure in case of 
sickness. 

" Georgetown, I). C, March 28, 1867. 
"I am just beginning to realize my surroundings; the 
prospects all look good. I am in decidedly the pleasantest 
parish I have yet had; the people are refined, educated, in 
many instances highly cultivated; the men are, some of 
them literary, some of them scientific, characters; some are 
in Government offices, some are old-school retired gentle- 
men ; there is no pretension, but everything real and plain, 
though some of them are very wealthy. As to the town 
itself, I cannot say much for it. You know it is an old 
town, much older than Washington ; there are many poor 
people, uneducated, and I can begin to see plenty of work 
already. Many of my people are from the Xorth, with 
northern ideas of liberality. Of course, I have some poor 
people in- my congregation, and some of fair acquirements. 
As to political sentiment, fortunately that does not run very 
high. The church building itself is a very old one, the old- 
est in the town, so old it is falling down, and we are now 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 205 

getting plans for a new church, Sunday-school room and 
parsonage, all together, built with special reference to their 
respective uses. This summer will see all preparations 
made, perhaps see the work partly done. To me the peo- 
ple are beginning already to be very kind; they found 
houses scarce, and house-rent high. They came and told 
me to take any house at any rent, and not consider myself 
responsible for more than §300. I took a house, which did 
not suit me exactly, but which was the best I could get; 
they said, 'what you want done shall be done,' and this 
indicates their disposition. My wife came over on Tues- 
day, and the ladies gave her a hearty reception. 

" I like my parish better, and better every day. I have 
plenty to do in it, and I trust I may have grace to work 
moderately, so as not to break myself down, and yet be 
able to do the work which lies before me. I have to thank 
you for those Church papers — the Episcopalian. It is the 
only Church paper I see, and so, of course, it has been of 
great service to me. 

" Georgetown, May 25, 1867. 
" We have this week been moving from Baltimore; a 
week of labor it has been to us both. I am so wearied, so 
exhausted even, I sometimes scarcely know what I am 
about. My wife is feeling much prostrated, also, though 
everything has been done for us which could be done. 
When we came into our new house, we found every thing 
that could be wanted, and in abundance. We ought to be 
•comfortable. My only embarrassment is, how to acknowl- 
edge it, or how to be worthy of it. 

" Georgetown, July 22, 1867. 

" The truth is I have not been very comfortably situated 

since the warm weather began. The house I have is a small 

one. It affords me no study; the room I am using is in the 

.attic. When the days are very warm, I am driven out by 



206 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

twelve o'clock; then my whole evening is lost, in one sense. 
I cannot enter the study, either to read or w T rite. The par- 
ish does not afford a parsonage, and though they have been 
talking of building one, I see no prospect of their doing it- 
very soon. From my peculiar nervous condition my cere- 
bral action is at best imperfect. Such a condition requires 
the best sunlight and air. In coming to think of it, it is 
just these two elements of which I have everywhere been 
deprived, for want of a proper study. You remember the 
little study in Brooklyn, on the wrong side of the house for 
the sun, and too small to hold sufficient air. In Cumber- 
land, I knew at the time, my study was killing me. At 
Savage, I got on better, because I was very little in my 
study. Here I am but repeating my experience ; I have 
done the best I could. I confess, it a little surprises me to 
see men, intelligent men, Christian men, spend thousands 
of dollars, in some instances tens of thousands, in fitting up 
their business offices, and yet expect clergymen to manu- 
facture healthy thought in a garret ; I, however, accept the 
conditions. Though I am not like you, a predestinarian, I 
am, like you, a firm believer in a superintending provi- 
dence. People say I preach the truth, and they understand 
things better when I have explained them. God might 
have made my mission, not one to build up churches, but, 
like Paul, to wander about and preach. My congregation 
has grown considerably, now tilling our church, which, how- 
ever, is not very large. I am kept busy, though I could do 
more, it sometimes seems to me, were I a little differently 
situated. I find Georgetown an extremely expensive place 
to live in, by far the most expensive in which we have ever 
lived. We have to pay $550 for this house, small as it is. 
The people are very generous, too ; they are always doing 
something, and seldom confine themselves to little things. 
But in spite of it all, it looks sometimes as if all ends would 
not meet. I try, however, not to borrow trouble, but to do 
the work my hands find to do. 



LETTERS TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 207 

" Georgetown, January 1, 1868. 
"I did not wish you to know I had broken dow T n again, 
thinking I might rally out of my condition, the condition 
in which I then was, and which I felt to be coming upon 
me when I was with you in the fall, a thought which struck 
me only after I had written it. The truth is, I cannot carry 
a parish of any size, unless I can live out of doors; it does not 
seem possible for me to live at all. I do not know what to 
do. Here I am with a crowded church, and the thought that 
I can do nothing for them, itself prostrates me. There is 
some talk of giving me two or three months' rest, but that 
would do very little good. If I could get that much rest 
every year, I might be equal to a moderate amount of work 
for nine months. 

" Baltimore, February 5, 1870. 
" The news of your going to England, though of course 
news, was not at all surprising to me. I do not see but it 
is the most natural thing for you to do, and a wise thing. 
The trip cannot fail to do you all good, and be productive 
of great happiness and much permanent benefit. Very gladly 
would I join you if the thing were possible, and I feel most 
deeply thankful that you and Mrs. Middleton have thought 
of me at such a time and with such a desire. My people 
here are none of them very wealthy, and they have been to 
me very kind and very generous. I could not allow them 
to send me to England if they proposed it, for the simple 
reason that I do not think the money would be well spent 
for them. I do not think anything now could put strength 
enough in me to enable me to carry on a city parish, the 
way such ' commercial machines ' have to be carried on. 
Twelve years ago, six months or a year might have had some 
beneficial effect upon me. I think now it is too late, and 
the best thing for me and for the church is, that I take some 
quiet, out of the way place, and do there what work is to be 
done. At the same time, as I said, I feel most grateful to 



208 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

you aud Mrs. Micldleton for your kind and generous propo- 
sition. I trust you will all enjoy your trip to the utmost, 
that your plans will all be carried out and nothing happen 
to mar in any degree the pleasure you anticipate. 

"Bridgeport, Pa., October 29, 1872. 
" Your letter is just this evening received; I hasten to 
reply, though my heart is so full, I know not what to say. 
It seems to me scarcely possible that I am no longer to 
think of you as still in Brooklyn. What associations have 
I, too, with that house in Union street, and what is there of 
my last twenty-five years with which you and Mrs. Middle- 
ton are not, in some way or other, connected ? How eventful 
have these years been to me, and how your letter to-night 
seems to bring them all back to life once more ! Twenty- 
five years ! What changes ! How many friends have gone ; 
how many new ones have come ; what joys, what sorrows — 
many things so much better than we hoped — many things 
so much worse ; yet, all for all, how blessed ! If shadows do 
linger around us, how many we see go down into utter and 
hopeless night! But, my dear sir, in leaving Brooklyn, it 
seems to me even your sadness must be akin to happiness. 
In looking backward, what is there in the retrospect you 
would change ? Years of unbroken prosperity, happiness, 
and usefulness. A great city spreads where you have seen 
only open fields ; to its moral, religious, and social growth, 
you have been a large contributor. A new generation has 
risen which your prayers, your means, and your endeavors, 
have united to make wiser and happier than their fathers. 
You have shared with others all your gifts, and so invested 
your talent ; it must continue to yield interest, even when 
you are gone. Then }?ou resign all at last, not because the 
past is in any way bad, but because the future is better; 
surely this in itself is a great reward, and yet, great as it is, 
still only the beginning. Go where you will, memories, 
affections and prayers will follow you ; sweet will be your 



LETTEES TO THOMAS D. MIDDLETON. 209 

retirement — may it also be long ; may the years bring you 
renewed evidence that you have not lived in vain. The 
thought comes sadly over me, I may never look upon your 
face again in this world. You will, I hope, often revisit 
this country, but I may not be here ; no prospect remains 
of my ever visiting you. If it were possible now, I would 
throw everything aside and run on, were it only to bid you 
good bye ; I am, however, this year, ' in labors more abun- 
dant.' In addition to my church, I have a school five days 
in the week — seventeen scholars — nobody here to take my 
place on Sunday. I may possibly come on Saturday, though, 
besides my preparations for Sunday, I have an appointment 
in Philadelphia. But, if I do not see you again, I pray God 
to bless you both, to keep you * in the hollow of His hand ; ' 
may you be spared to each other, and if it should so happen 
that we see each other no more here, I look forward in the 
i certain hope 'of meeting in that better land where all that 
have sown and all that have reaped shall rejoice together. 
I have thought several times this summer of writing to you, 
but I had so little of any interest to impart, I concluded it 
was better to spare you. My wife is, I think, certainly 
better ; my children are well ; when I am gone, I have so 
provided things they shall still know something of you. I 
trust as long as you live you will not forget them. Even if 
my life is prolonged, I know not how long I shall remain 
in this parish. I have a call now and then, a new offer is 
working even now. My children are growing, and will 
soon have needs beyond those I can supply here. But 
nothing is likely to occur until next summer, at any rate, 
if even then. We all unite in deepest thanks, in devout 
prayers. God only knows the gratitude in my heart to-night, 
towards you and your dear wife, and how affectionately 
and sadly I say farewell." 



14 



LETTERS TO W. AND R. B. PEET. 



Among Mr. Perinchief's devoted friends, none occupied 
a warmer place in his heart than William Peet, Esq., well 
known as a lawyer in the city of New York. They became 
acquainted when the two resided in Brooklyn, where they 
were both interested in the Church of the Messiah. The 
subjoined extracts are from the letters which Mr. Perinchief 
addressed to him, as well as to his brother the Rev. Robert 
B. Peet, another friend. 

" Mount Savage, 
" Alleghany Co., Md., April 13, 1859. 

" I have to thank you for your letter. It was kind — it 
was generous. It was far beyond all I expected. * * * 

Most of all, I appreciate your expressions of regard, and 
your assurances that my ministrations at the Church of the 
Messiah were not without profit to you. I need not tell 
you that though our acquaintance was short, it had been 
long enough to draw out much of my heart toward you, 
even as to an elder brother, and that, therefore, such expres- 
sions from you were particularly grateful. Most of all, my 
heart yearns to do good to somebody ; and fears that with 
its highest and purest endeavors it comes short of its desires. 
I know the race is not to the swift, but still to desire 
success is human, and true it is that the coming of desire 
is a tree of life. I deeply felt my separation from the 
Church of the Messiah. I feel it still ; but I am not un- 
mindful that out of my connection with it I have much 
over which to be thankful. I besran to realize the blessed- 



212 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ness of my calling, but our Father knows what is best, and 
so I am thankful and resigned. 

You saw the note I sent to Mr. Middleton giving an 
account of my journey hitherward and reception here. I 
need not repeat. Everything has been beyond our expecta- 
tions. We are more happily situated than I thought we 
should be. I have every opportunity for exercise in the 
open air, and I take plenty of it. The church is small and 
I have only one service each Sunday. My church people 
are kind. They send me all sorts of plants and vegetables 
for my garden, and hens and chickens for my yard. I have 
a nice little garden which 1 take care of myself, and I find 
the greatest recreation with my chickens. In my front 
yard I have flowers, fruit and shade trees, all mixed 
together. I think it is beautiful to see anything grow. 

''August 23, 1859. 
" I wrote, mentioning one or two little things which had 
transpired since you left us. A week ago last Sunday I 
commenced preaching in the afternoon at Frostburg. My 
people here suspecting that the church in Frostburg would 
be thinly attended, very kindly went up so as to secure me 
a congregation, but unfortunately they kept many out, for 
though many stood up, many went away not able to get in. 
Last Sunday I told them they had better stay away, which 
they did. I walked up, though I could have gone in a 
carriage, but I preferred to make the experiment, desirous 
of seeing how I could stand it. I found it rather too much 
for me, so last Sunday went on horseback. I do not mind 
it much. Already they pick up a little spirit, and I am in 
hopes before a year passes they will call a clergyman to 
reside among them. * * * I feel more and more inter- 
ested in this work at Frostburg. Men are indifferent 
because they have settled down to a dead level of indif- 
ference. They need waking up. To the right kind of a 
call they respond. When I see a change here in Mount 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND R0BT. B. PEET. 213 

Savage, I am encouraged, and I feel we must work, come 
what will. Our day school is prospering, and I have great 
hopes that it will be a blessing to this community. 

" January 3, 1860. 
" Your last letter being a treatise on sermons was quite a 
sermon in itself. My tearing up a sermon was a compli- 
ment to my Brooklyn friend, it was so in a different sense 
from that you put upon it. I was sorry they should make 
such a tax upon your indulgence. I wished to show that I 
was not insensible to your kindness by endeavoring at my 
earliest opportunity to make one as much better as I could. 
It is true God gives me grace to write, and He is pleased 
sometimes to make our weakest endeavors conducive to his 
glory, but this does not release us from the responsibility of 
offering to the Lord the very best we have, and if I have a 
sermon which I feel is not what I desire, though it might 
once have done some good, it is my duty to replace that 
sermon by something which I feel is the best I can do, how- 
ever poor it may be. I am all the more bound to do this if 
I know that the reading of this sermon, considered poor, will 
beget in me a habit of indifference as to what I offer ; grant 
that it need not beget this indifference, but if I know it 
will, then it becomes my duty to put it in the fire. The 
idea of writing ' great- sermons ' does not enter into the 
question. I re-write them to simplify them if possible. 
The hardest of all writing to me is simple, plain writing. 
I believe that anybody could write like Dr. Johnson, but I 
believe very few could write like Daniel De Foe. It is the 
simple and true-hearted style which wins and accomplishes 
most in the pulpit, but they are in composition not most easy 
to be attained. It is only the best artists who can make you 
forget art. Any poor scribbler can betray his struggles, 
and when a man has to write two sermons each week, as I 
have once had to do, it surely becomes him to try for that 
style in which he can write to the greatest advantage. So 



214 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

far therefore from our quarreling about burning sermons, 
I expect to hear you say over every conflagration, a loud 
and hearty amen. 

" April 9, 1860. 

" Yesterday was a day of great happiness to me and my 
people. Easter is ever a day most joyous; but yesterday I 
had much, even here, over which to rejoice. One year ago, 
our little communion numbered about a dozen ; yesterday 
we were more than forty. All hearts seemed to glow with 
love to that Saviour of whose resurrection I spoke. In 
looking back upon the year I believe some good has been 
done. Oar Sunday School numbers one hundred and 
twenty ; and in the afternoon, yesterday, I baptized six 
children, my own among them. 

" When I reflect upon all the circumstances I cannot 
help feeling that our labor has not been in vain. We have 
here some very devoted Christians, and one warm heart, 
you know, transmits its glow to other hearts, and so I have 
had many and cheerful helpers. We feel that we are mis- 
sionaries, and we try to do, in love to our Lord, all we can 
do. The year has been one of great happiness to me and 
my wife, and both of us have become deeply attached to 
many of the people. There cannot be a better place for a 
man to rest in. He can rest and do much good at the same 
time. 

"June 29, I860; 
" I cannot tell you how much I enjoy the coolness and 
stillness, and solemnity of these mountains. In the even- 
ings, particularly, our piazza is delightful. Now, if you 
will come and see us, we will try and treat you better than 
we did last year. As for ourselves, we are as happy as 
mortals can be, and I believe I am a little too much so. I 
have, in consequence, grown too lazy for anything. My 
health is good, Mrs. P. is in good Spirits, and as to ' baby,' 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND ROBT. B. PEET. 215 

.she does nothing but laugh, and eat, and sleep. You 
express some fears as to my capabilities for full duty, but if 
I only felt as anxious to set about it as I feel able, I should 
be better satisfied. I have never been so happy in my life 
as I am now. Certainly, since I was a child I have not 
been so contented. It is true my salary is small, but we 
live off of three fortunes, and so have no need of a large 
salary. To my wife, these ladies are mother, and sister, 
and friend, and I never did imagine how much I could 
become attached to a people, especially in the country, nor 
had I given human nature credit for so much kindness. If 
I had only myself, and wife and child to" think for, if I did 
not believe that no man has a right to consult his own ease, 
I could not be induced to leave Mount Savage ; and go 
where we will, we shall go with a sorry heart. But I have 
others to think of, and if God gives me strength I must 
work for them. Beside ' use is second nature,' and my 
heart yearns for a more extended field, and so I hold yet to 
my resolve, if an opportunity offers in the fall I must em- 
brace it. By the way, I do not go to Frostburg this 
summer. The reason is this : They have the services of a 
clergyman every two weeks, and lay-reading the alternate 
Sundays. There are few persons there at best, and these 
few are not destitute of instruction. My Sunday School 
holds its session in the morning ; it now numbers one hun- 
dred and twenty-five children, and I have to look out for it 
myself. I am, therefore, on my legs and talking from half- 
past nine to half-past twelve, and you can see this is a 
pretty good morning's work. Of course, on communion 
days I am still longer engaged. I thought I had better do 
my own work, and not trouble about Frostburg, than to 
ride up there after my work was done, and read service 
and preach; and riding home again, was more than I could 
do, so I gave it up. I am rejoiced that Dr. Dyer has 
.-declined the Episcopate of Kansas. He fills the place he 



216 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

now holds exactly ; if be had left it he would have left a 
vacancy very difficult to fill. 

" August 1, 1860. 
" My people said I had better take a change of air, so 
they gave me some money and sent me up to Oakland, 
where I remained sometime, and have just returned ; I 
would rather have remained at home, but wishing to make 
some observations respecting the spiritual wants of the 
upper end of the country, and thinking a little journey 
would do me no harm, I went. I preached more than I 
would have done had I remained at home, but then I had 
no sermon to write during the week. A young man from 
Cumberland has been here during my absence. He wanted 
a country visit, and so we helped each other. Very happily 
has this summer passed away, I can scarcely realize that 
August has come. Did you ever know time to go as it now 
goes ? I seem hardly to have commenced a week, when lo I 
I am at the end of it. And just so it has been all the time I 
have been here. One year and a half have passed away like 
a dream. It constitutes almost the only vacation I ever had, 
and I have rested. God has indeed been good to me, I feel 
though that I have rested long enough, that I ought to be 
doing something more. 

" August 6, 1860. 
" I received a day or two ago a paper, announcing the 
death of your little boy. I cannot tell you the sadness that 
filled my own heart, and that of my wife, when we read the 
paragraph. Our own little babe, the same age as yours was 
ill, and we were therefore no strangers to the joys and hopes 
of which these little creatures become the centers. Beside 
all this, the great regard we entertained for you, and our 
love for those near and dear to you, gave us an interest in 
your child, which we felt for no other. We knew too, how 
much all those at home thought of him, and what an afHic- 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND ROBT. B. PEET. 217 

tion his loss would thus become. I. know my dear friend, 
there is a sorrow with which stranger hearts cannot inter- 
meddle ; but I would assure you, that though in the depths 
of such a sorrow, you are not forgotten ; there are hearts 
that would share the weight of your grief with you. I 
cannot tell you anything of that better and higher consola- 
tion, that 'present help in time of trouble' which God 
affords to all that love Him, and which I know you now 
find more precious than all other helps — a rod and staff to 
sustain and comfort you. But we have prayed God to 
surround you now, with a sense of His presence, to make 
you sensible, that He is near in the darkness, as in the 
light, that He is blessed in the taking away as in the giving. 
Why one is taken, and another left, God only knows, while 
yours is gone to the bosom of Christ, to be there to await 
you in glory, mine is here the object of much affection to 
be sure, but at the same time the occasion of increasing 
solicitude. Yours is w T here sin can never come. Mine is 
where sin and sorrow ever mingle, and from one or both 
of which none are exempt. Who is most blessed, neither 
you nor I can tell. One thing only we both know, God is 
good, and let us ask for each other, dear brother, that grace 
which shall enable us both truly to pray, out of a pure- 
heart fervently ' Thy will be done;' that grace which shall 
enable both so to live, that in a blessed hereafter, we may 
know the things hidden from us here. God's grace is 
sufficient for us. Let us cast our care upon Him, for He 
careth for us. 

" Mount Savage, April 1, 1861. 
" There is no political excitement here, every particle of 
it has died out. People do not seem to care what becomes 
of the Union. The nation seems stricken with a conscious- 
ness of its own shame. We are the most mercenary people 
in the world. There is not a virtue whose equivalent 
cannot be expressed in dollars and cents. Crime is begin- 



218 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ning to assume unchecked organization. We would be 
glad of any Government which would be a Government. 
Our people have been so long divided into office-seekers, 
and office-holders, until between the two, the country is 
ruined. I wish the ' coming man ' would come. If he 
were old Csesar himself I think he would be a blessing. 

" May 20, 1861. 
" I have been looking over your letter about baptism, and 
hardly know what to write to you in reply. My own 
notions unexplained would seem, I know, quite heterodox, 
and it would take considerable space to explain them. You 
know baptism is a subject the most intricate in theology, 
and a topic upon which Theologians are greatly divided. 
Upon many parts of it, all the books which I have been 
able to read, in my opinion, shed no light, and very much 
of Scripture quoted to prove some views, do not, according 
to my thinking, belong to the subject at all. Your three 
views cover very much ground, and they embrace much 
which is generally held upon the subject, and they seem 
about as satisfactory to you as they are to most people who 
think about them. Your first view is, ' By baptism we are 
made members of the visible church, and brought into the 
covenant God has made with His people. ~No change is 
made in the person, but a great change is made in his 
position.' 2d. ' The taint of Adam's sin which is developed 
in his posterity is washed out by baptism, so that the 
recipient stands as pure as Adam was before the fall and 
absolutely holy.' 3d. ' The taint of Adam being washed 
out, a certain new birth or new influence is infused. This 
germ must be nourished,' &c. Now, I will give you some 
of my views, and if they seem lax and low to you, remem- 
ber I only give them for what you deem them worth. 1st. 
Christ redeemed all men and took away the taint of Adam's 
sin ; led the old captivity captive ; ^procured the spirit of 
God to dwell with man, yea even with the enemies of God, 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND ROBT. B. PEET. 219 

that the Lord God might dwell among them ; and no man 
born in the world, be he what he may, Chinaman or 
Englishman, has any of Adam's sin imputed to him. 

" This seems to me to be written all over Scripture — Old 
and New Testament. David saw it. The Apostles exhaust 
language in telling us Christ died for the sins of the whole 
world. Every man is a new Adam in himself, and I present 
the Gospel to every man as himself, having power by the 
Holy Ghost to receive it or reject it, in order that as he is 
■redeemed, so now he may be saved ; or, at all events, if he 
will reject it, he may die absolutely without excuse; and by 
A-irtue of this redemption the spirit of God dwells with all 
men, in every nation. He who does the will of God, 
according to the best light he has, is accepted of Him ; so 
that baptism cannot do for us what was already done before 
baptism was, and what is done to the unbaptized as well as 
to the baptized. I cannot stop to anticipate all' your objec- 
tions to this, but I will stop to say it does not make Pagan- 
ism as good as Christianity. That I might, by a bare 
possibility, get over a rugged road in the dark without 
breaking my neck, is no sort of reason against taking a 
light, and certainly does not make out that darkness is as 
good as noonday. 

" 2d. Baptism, like every true sacrament, is monumental. 
It is the pledge we have of the fact that Christ, the Divine 
Atonement, has come and established the reconciliation 
implied in the proposition above. It is a monument that 
is established between man and a Triune God, making 
Christians the keepers of the oracles of God, as the Jews 
were before them. Or, otherwise expressed, baptism is, in 
the first place, a monument of Christ, and, in the second 
place, of the Trinity ; and, in conjunction of both, of the 
atonement, as Christ explained it, a living protest against 
many errors still held by some. 

" 3d. In infant baptism it is the expression of the parent's 
faith in Christ; in adult baptism, of the adult's faith; 



220 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

being thus a perpetuation of the monument. All its spir- 
itual advantages to the infant, God has not been pleased to 
tell us, and your conjectures are as good as mine; perhaps 
greater than some believe, not as great as others believe, 
but exactly what can never be told. 

" 4th. The inward graces are not necessarily connected 
with the outward signs, neither in Scripture, nor in reason, 
nor in fact. 

" 5th. The word i regeneration ' is used in so many senses, 
like ' high church ' and * low church,' it is impossible to tell 
what it does mean, but where the internal grace and the 
outward signs unite, there is a new birth, redemption has 
brought forth its fruit, salvation. The man is a child of 
God, taken into oneness with God, and partakes of all the 
privileges of an heirship with Christ. The production of 
this result is the compliance of the human will with the 
overtures of the Divine Spirit, the coincidence of the human 
will with the divine will. All such in our branch of the 
church, confess their faith at confirmation ; renew their 
strength, and re-assert their faith at communion. All such, 
really and in truth, feed on Christ, and are no unworthy 
partakers, because Christ is their worthiness. All baptized 
people are bound to become this. Every child is morally 
bound to renew the faith of his father, to make it accessory 
or available to his own salvation. Indeed I may say every 
man within the sound of the Gospel, is bound to become 
this, for every ray of moral light implies a corresponding 
degree of moral responsibility, and in the Gospel, God has 
given us the very highest degree of light, vouchsafed to 
man, but to the baptized especially ; for the very fact of 
baptism proves him to have been within reach of that 
light, by neglecting which or rejecting which, he increases 
his condemnation, making that a savor of death unto death 
which was intended as a savor of life^unto life. 

" All baptized persons are members of the visible church 
within the covenant. Every baptized man is a witness of 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND ROBT. B. PEET. 221 

Christ, bat a converted man is a better witness. The bap- 
tized man is a Christian, in an accommodated sense, but 
the converted man is a Christian, in deed and in truth. 
Other sheep there are not of this fold, but belonging to 
that other fold, the invisible church, the lines of the two by 
no means here on earth coinciding. At every baptism 
whether of child or adult, I can see Christ the divine 
revealer of Father, Son and Holy Ghost. I gather fresh 
faith in him, and endeavor to follow all His instructions. 
He was the Logos to tell us what to do, our example to 
show us what to be. Baptism is as much a remembrance of 
His life and teaching, as the holy supper is of His death 
and sacrifice ; and the inward grace bestowed in both these 
sacraments is proportioned to that faith, that intensity of 
desire after God, that holy obedience of life, which tends to 
beget both faith and desire, with which we approach God. 
'• This will give you some idea of my views of baptism, 
ver}< crudely expressed and perhaps not helping you one 
bit. All I can say further is, that the volumes upon the 
subject are legion. I can make very little out of them 
which is satisfactory. You may succeed better. But in 
i Brown on the Articles,' subject ' Baptism,' you will find 
some thoughts which may help you. It is a long time since 
I read them, but I remember to have done so with pleas- 
ure. I do not by any means, however, make him responsible 
for what I have said. 

" Cumberland, Md., October 8, 1862. 
" 1 agree with you that Lincoln has refreshed the hearts 
of all at last. This is the one thing that every body North 
and South has been waiting for. The great reason why so 
little is said about it, is, that the thing has long been a fore- 
gone conclusion with everybody and everywhere, except with 
the Government. And the only fear I now have is, that the 
Government does not know what it has done. There seems 
to be a timidity about those Washington functionaries 



222 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

altogether inexplicable. If the policy which is at last 
found could only be vigorously prosecuted, North as well as 
South, in ninety days the rebellion would be only a thing 
of the past. I have a faith, as you have, in God's good- 
ness, and in human progress, but good things have been 
destroyed by human wickedness, and men have sometimes 
retrograded. Now, however, I think every good man can 
devoutly pray for God's help, pray expectingly. We have at 
last turned our faces towards the thing that is good, and in 
that God's benediction will rest. Southern prisoners are 
brought here frequently, and I never see them without 
praying God to enable us soon to end this war. 

" April 15, 1863. 

" Lent you know T always brings its duties, and what with 
services, lectures, sermons, and then not a few sick to 
attend, I have had as much to do as I was equal to ; I am 
thankful to say, however, that I have come out of Lent rather 
brighter than otherwise, and I believe I have done more 
this Lent than in any other since I have been in the minis- 
try. I have, however, taken to extemporising again, which 
saves me considerable labor, though for the time being it is 
a greater tax on my strength. So long as that old enemy 
depression keeps at bay, I am contented, and delight in 
work. I find myself, too, with many occasions of encour- 
agement, notwithstanding the prospect a year ago. I have 
every hope that I have not labored in vain. Temporally 
we have made one step, having paid above all expenses, 
upwards of a thousand dollars of our debt, bringing it 
down till we can look in the direction of the end, leaving 
us with only seventeen hundred dollars more to pay, which 
I hope we shall dispose of before next Easter. Don't forget 
to pray for me and for my people. 

" I read of the death of poor Doctor Cutler. He is 
another ' gone before, entered into rest.' I did not know 
he had so strong a hold upon the affections of the people 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND ROBT. B. PEET. 223 

generally as the universal respect for him has disclosed. 
To be sure he was a long resident of Brooklyn. His 
removal is that of an old way-mark, and tells us with more 
than ordinary emphasis, that time moves on, and in its pro- 
gress forgets no one. 

" June 30, 1863. 
" Just after Lent closed, I felt very well, laid out my 
plans, found every thing working very well, when snap 
went my whole system, and left me now for some weeks 
quite wretched. This has not been on account of any 
excitement consequent upon war incidents in this region. 
You have heard no doubt of the fact that the Southerners 
have been here, and perhaps saw a few of the alarming 
statements which found their way into the papers ; I never 
believed they w^ould come to Cumberland, and so never felt 
any anxiety on that account. When at last they did come, 
I had no fears, I was too feeble to allow myself to get exci- 
ted, was perfectly resigned, knowing that they could not 
hurt me unless God permitted. There was considerable 
excitement of course, but there was no particular need of 
it. The Confederates behaved very well indeed, touched 
nothing but what they paid for with such money as they 
had, which to be sure was worth nothing. By eleven o'clock 
of- the same morning in which they came they were all 
gone, and the town was pervaded by a Sunday stillness ; 
since that time we have seen nothing of them, and the tide 
of excitement has rolled away from us, until now it is nearer 
you than it is to Cumberland. Everything here goes on 
about as usual. There is plenty of work for me to do, but 
here I am not able to do it. In some respects my present 
attack is worse than those I had in New York; I feel I 
must do something for my relief, and I must either abandon 
the ministry, or find some form of it to which I am equal. 
I know that what I need is perfect stillness, absence of 
anything like that imperative responsibility which attaches 



224 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEE. 

to a clergyman. You see, a man in my situation gets no 
day of actual rest, no day finds him relieved of all care. 
Such vacations as I can get, aggravate, rather than alleviate, 
and somehow by the very working of the disease, I suppose 
if I leave my duty for my own sake, that fact itself oppresses 
me more than the duty. But something I must do ; lam 
neither equal to the duties of the ministry, nor fit for them. 
Can't you suggest something for me ? 

" Cumberland, March 19, 1864. 
" Your letter sent to Mount Savage I have just received. 
It must be that I got your letter of last December, of which 
you speak, and yet it seems to me I must also have replied 
to it. For the last year, however, I have dragged along I 
hardly know how, just drifted, unable to keep much of 
anything upon my mind ; a thing once forgotten, was 
almost irretrievably gone. I have not yet moved to Savage, 
but expect to go early in April. The Sunday after Easter 
closes my ministry here. We are sadly in want of some- 
body to take my place. This church and town need a 
man of God in it, if ever a place on this earth did. I have 
never felt more desirous of living than since I have been 
here ; but I am completely crushed, cannot write a sermon, 
or walk two miles. My whole nervous system is broken 
down. I might hang on here and hold the place for some- 
time yet, I suppose, but that would never do for me. The 
people here are easily satisfied, but they know no more of 
their real need than so many children. To stand here and 
tell them easy things would be a sin. But to tell them real 
truths, the hard facts which they need to know, and to tell 
them, so that they must hear, requires more strength than 
I have. They need line upon line, precept upon precept, 
here a little and there a great deal. They want a man able 
to stand in his lot, and week by week, in faith and earnest- 
ness, do the work his hand finds to do. I trouble you with 
.all this, because one object I have in writing to you to-day 



LETTERS TO WLlLIAM AND R0BT. B. PEET. 225 

is to get your assistance, if possible, in procuring another 
rector. We had called a man and he had partly agreed to 
come, and was to preach here to-morrow, but last night we 
received a letter saying he altogether declined the call. 
This unsettles us again. An interval of no service at all in 
the church would be very detrimental. Everything is now 
in a prosperous condition outside. They offer a man a 
thousand dollars a year, and a house ; a man of moderate 
desires can live tolerably well on that. It is more, you are 
aware, than I have had. Indeed, it has not been the design 
of God that I should remain here ; for the trials I have 
gone through have been many, and would have tested the 
strength of a man in perfect health. I do not complain, 
for if I have been sent to make it easier for somebody else 
then I have not been sent in vain. I think the people do 
see some things now they never saw before ; and my suc- 
cessors will not have as hard a time as I and my predeces- 
sors. If you can find anyone you think will suit us, will 
you not send him along or let me know ? Don't recom- 
mend a young and single man ; a young married man 
might do, but a man with some experience would be better. 
* * * As long as I live I want to preach the Gospel, 
and if to a poor people in the mountains, to whom nobody 
else goes, all the better. Our God is very wise and very 
good : what he does is absolutely best. 

" Mount Savage, September 3, 1864. 
" This summer to me has been an unusual one in many 
respects, I have had better health than for many summers, 
but I have kept out of my study. I have fallen back upon 
the work of former days and preached old sermons. I have 
also been unusually active, preaching and doing missionary 
work over a space of fifteen miles or more, not being still 
one day scarcely. All this would be very well, if sermons 
grew upon the bushes, but the moment I confine myself to 
my study my old depression comes back, and I am worse 

15 



226 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

than useless. Unhappily I cannot work a week out of doors,, 
and then a week in my study. It takes me sometime to 
get my mind down so as to work well, and then I am com- 
pelled by necessity to do all I can. Old sermons I hate, 
and to get contented with old sermons, is very soon to 
grow incapable of producing new ones. I have long been 
thinking I would have to give up the ministry, so far as 
the special charge of a parish is concerned, and betake 
myself to some active occupation. It is my conviction that 
a man is bound te devote himself to whatever of usefulness 
he can best accomplish, and I am anxious to find some 
situation in a seminary, or other similar institution, where 
I will at least have regular periods of relaxation and recrea- 
tion, and at the same time to be able to preach now and 
then, and help some man who may occasionally need it. 
Or, if any thing else should offer, less confining still, I 
should prefer it. Do you know anything of the working 
of the Christian and Sanitary Commissions? Whether they 
afford an opening, or if you hear or can think of any situa- 
tion likely to give me relief, will you let me know? I do 
not think it is work that breaks me down so much as worry. 
My work is never done. No day is a day of rest. It is 
easy enough to say ' do not worry.' Worrying is part of 
my disease. The human will can accomplish some things, 
but some things are beyond its reach. Some occupations 
are much more definite in their demands, so that a man 
can tell when his work is done. 

" February 19, 1865. 
" My trip did not result in any thing like what I supposed 
it would. When I saw you I made arrangements to go to 
Philadelphia, I went to that place from New York, and 
looked around as an oil man would say 'prospecting.' The 
prospect was good, I came home with the intention of 
settling up preparatory to a move. I soon found that my 
people here at Savage, and the people of the country gene- 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND R0BT. B. PEET. 227 

rally were wholly opposed to my removal. They would not 
listen to it at all, and so far from being unwilling to accept 
such services as I could give, in connection with my school, 
were willing to increase my salary for these services. My 
wife, too — though it was chiefly on her account I wished 
to remove — was afraid my own health would break down 
in Philadelphia, and so I concluded to remain where I was, 
go on with my work, and do it as best I could. My wife's 
health is feeble, and sometimes I feel very anxious indeed 
on her account, but I am looking forward with high antici- 
pations to this summer, and now with my school and church 
together, I may be able to do more for her. My work here 
though not easy, and sometimes very unpleasant, is still a 
very important one, and I am glad I am able to stand in 
my lot in this new order of things for us down here, and 
contribute my mite towards that real reconstruction which 
will eventually prevail all over the South. Things look 
really very dark, at times altogether discouraging. I like, 
however, the idea of a God over all, and He who has so 
wonderfully and unexpectedly eradicated the cause, will in 
His Providence eradicate its consequences. 

"How did you like Bancroft's oration at Washington ? 
To me it appears like the grandest pronouncement of this 
crisis, — a splendid performance, as grand in what it suggests, 
as in what it expresses ; as full of prophecy as of history. 

" York, Pa., January 13, 1874. 
" You ask me what my position is here, and how I like 
it ? I would be very glad if I knew myself. I wanted to 
educate my girls, and I had some notion of quitting the 
ministry for a wdiile in order to do it. Or rather, I thought 
I could preach and teach, too. The opportunity was offered 
me here — a small church and a small school. Unfortu- 
nately both have grown upon my hands, and I am really 
neither minister nor teacher,, but burdened with both ; that 
is to say, I am not satisfied. Meanwhile, it seems as though 



228 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

God sent me here to learn that it is worth while to preach, 
and, while I have a good opening for a school, I ache to get 
at ray exclusive work of preaching. So you see how I am 
situated, I am literally overburdened, so much so, I hardly 
have time to write these lines ; yet, thank God, my health 
keeps up ; I have had no depression now for two years. 

To Rev. R. B, Peel 

" Mount Savage, March 5, 1860. 

" Your very kind letter of February 29th, came safely 
to hand, after some little delay. I hasten to answer it, as 
it may be very important that those parishes be filled 
immediately, wishing also to thank you for your thought- 
fulness of me. It is very true, I find my health re-estab- 
lished ; that is, I feel strong, and at times desirous of more 
work to do. For several months I have not had a pain in 
my back, and from the circumstance that a recent cold did 
not settle there I infer that it is not so weak as it has been. 
Still, I do not think I would be justified in leaving Mount 
Savage just yet, especially at this season of the year. Last 
summer I gained rapidly, and, it may be, a summer under 
similar circumstances would lend me additional vigor. 
Beside, spring and summer are just the seasons in which 
to be in the country, and are not the seasons in which to 
undertake hard work. Here I have plenty of time to be 
much in the open air, digging in the garden, walking 
among the hills, horseback riding, and such exercises, and 
I have thought it would be wise in me to remain here till 
fall, at all events, and perhaps by that time, if I experience 
no drawbacks, I w r ould be justified in assuming the charge 
of a larger parish. 

" I have a parish school here, too, which does not close 
its session till the middle of June, and I am desirous of 
seeing it established for another year, for the village greatly 
needs it. The iron w T orks here have just started, and many 



LETTERS TO WILLIAM AND ROBT. B. PEET. 22# 

men, with their families, have just come back. Ours is the 
only church in the village. Baptists, Methodists, all denom- 
inations, go to our church, and it would hardly do for me 
to leave them just at present. Small as the parish is, there 
is much of interest in it; and leave these people when I 
will, I shall not leave them without great reluctance. They 
have been exceedingly kind to me and my wife. 

" St. James', Pittsburg, from your account, must be 
another church of the Messiah, and, if so, it would be hard 
work to build it up. When I get into a work of that kind 
I become perfectly absorbed. If you have ever been placed 
in a similar position you know what it is, or if you know 
what the church of the Messiah was two years ago, you 
know it has not reached its present condition without work 
somewhere. I thought of nothing else, I used even to 
dream about it, and with such an affair on a man's shoul- 
ders no wonder his back ached. Would not St. James' be 
too much for me ? 

" October 2, 1860. 
" I suppose by this time you are safely at home from your 
Brooklyn visit. I hope both you and Mrs. Peet derived 
great benefit from the change. A journey, though it be 
but a short one, is of great value to a clergyman. Our 
work knows no relaxation, though perhaps just at present I 
ought not to include myself. I very often wish for more 
work to do. If I were near you, I could pay you back some 
of those sermons you so generously lent me while I was 
helpless in Brooklyn. My health has not been so good as 
at present since the summer before that in which I was 
ordained. I have never since I was fourteen years of age 
been so devoid of care. I have just enough to do to make 
the time glide happily by. I have read much ; fixed up 
many old points in my studies which during my college 
and seminary course I had to pass over. I write one ser- 
mon a week ; have a pretty flourishing Sunday school, and 



230 OCTAVIUS PEBJNCHIEF. 

Saturday an industrial school. So I ought not to include 
myself when I speak of the hard work of the clergy. But 
I know what it is to have a parish of many duties and 
cares, two sermons and services on Sunday, Sunday school, 
industrial school, and a thousand other things to think of, 
and I can sympathize with you and those who are in the 
midst of such a charge. Your invitation to us to make 
you a visit at East Liberty was very kind, and of your 
kindness we are not insensible ; but though we have all 
we want, we often see the times, as in this instance, when 
we have not all we desire. We have not a big house full of 
twenty servants, with whom to leave baby ; I have no 
deacon or associate rector, on whom to devolve what little 
I have to do ; I have not many thousands of dollars in 
bank, nor five thousand dollars a year salary. You say it 
does not require all this to make a visit to East Liberty ; no 
certainly not, but suppose a man wants a barrel of flour, 
what difference does it make whether flour is five dollars a 
barrel or fifteen dollars, if he has not fifty cents ? We are 
greatly blessed far beyond what we deserve, but there are 
many pleasures we must forego, and one of these is a visit 
to East Liberty ; besides, I was away two Sundays in 
August, and now I have partly promised one of my wardens 
to spend a Sunday with him in New York; so if I venture 
away any where, I must go with him. My old friend Mid- 
dleton, in Brooklyn too, has just returned from England. 
I would like to see him, and possibly I might avail myself 
of the invitation of this gentleman to go to New York. 

Do you hear of any good vacant parishes ? If you do, I 
wish you would let me know. I dread the idea of leaving 
this place, I never shall see its like again, but pecuniary 
matters — or external demands which I can meet only 
by some additional pecuniary resource — sometimes press 
heavily upon me, and moreover, I have always felt that a 
man is sent into the world to do the most he can. 






LETTERS TO JOHN A. GRAHAM. 



The letters from which this chapter is compiled were 
written by Mr. Perinchief to one of his oldest and most de- 
voted friends, John A. Graham, Esq., of New York. That 
gentleman, a cultured man of business, saw much of him 
when they resided in the Cumberland region, and from 
their earliest acquaintance he was a constant adviser, not 
only in matters connected with business, but a counsellor 
in all the decisions upon the various parishes occupied. 
The letters addressed to this friend were very numerous, 
but many of them hardly suitable for publication, because of 
their frequent allusions to confidential affairs. 

" Mt. Savage, May 9, 1865. 
"The assassination of Mr. Lincoln has had much to do 
with keeping me prostrated. Since that eventful Saturday 
I have hardly been myself. I rejoice to see the response 
made by England and the European people to the news of 
the President's death. If their sympathy is sincere, it will 
go far toward removing the memory of their late 'neutral- 
ity.' Mr. Lincoln was a fearful loss, but his name is a heri- 
tage in itself. God give us grace to be worthy of him. 

"June 27, 1866. 
"This affection of you and your family for us, proved so 
often and in so many ways, unmerited, too, though not un- 
reciprocated, as we feel it to be, overshadows all considera- 
tions of minor advantages, deepens our affection for you all, 
and fills our hearts with deepest gratitude to the Great 
Giver, one of whose greatest gifts upon earth is that of a 



232 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

real friendship, a true friend. Yet I am not forgetful, nor 
is my wife, that the minor blessings in this case are very 
great, and everything very much a cause of thankfulness. 
My wife comes back in better health. I can never be thank- 
ful enough for that, and every day of the four weeks she 
was gone brought her something to make her happy. Still, 
I will not detain you with a rehearsal of her gains and en- 
joyments, which are no less mine than hers. I only wish 
to ask you not to think either of us forget, or ever can for- 
get, your kindness to us, because we say nothing about it. 
I am simply unable to tell you, and always shall be, how 
much happiness you and your family have caused us, how 
deeply four hearts cherish you all, how we look forward, 
hoping now, and believing, that, great as is this present hap- 
piness, it is but the germ, the fruition of which will be 
eternal. There is a natural desire in the human heart to 
reciprocate the kind offices of life. In this instance our 
case is hopeless, except in this, that, come what may, we 
shall never cease to love you all as our own, our nearest 
and dearest upon earth. 

" Germantown, July 23, 1869. 
" Mr. Lanman says you had seen the criticism in the 
6 Hartford Churchman' on our sermons, and that you were 
indignant. I saw the article yesterday for the first time,, 
and to-day a paper came from Lanman, and I have 
read it carefully again. I write, now, more particulary to 
ask you not to say a word about it. The article is mean. 
Lanman truly says it is 'dishonest.' There is not one fair 
quotation from the book. That which he takes from page 
192 is garbled. If he had gone on and quoted the whole 
passage, he would himself have been a living illustration of 
its truth. He is an illustration of its truth now, in an in- 
tensified degree. Now it may seem strange, but it is a fact, 
that the article did not disturb me at all. My wife read it 
this evening, and was very indignant. She said to me :; 



LETTERS TO JOHN A. GRAHAM. 233 

' Why, from the cool way you took it, I thought it was 
nothing.' Well, I did take it as nothing. That man evi- 
dently has no sympathy for me even if I am wrong. He 
does not 'rejoice in the truth,' but, that I am in error; it 
seems to do him good to complain. Now, I thank God, I 
can truly say I grieve for such a man. I grieve that such, 
men should stand in the way of the church. I really do not 
wonder men leave us; not only that, but leave all churches. 
That the precepts and example of the Son of God have to 
be found not only without us, but in spite of us. But being 
so, let us cover up this poor creature's fault, let us heal the 
wound the thrust has made — not at me, but at Christ. Let 
us rejoice then in truth and riches, and that men can and do 
find them. In one place he quotes from me : 'The church 
is a broad, deep, eternal faith; a system comprehensive of 
eternal truth.' Then adds or exclaims, 'mathematics, medi- 
cal principles, and geological facts, are then a part of the 
church.' Evidently, he imagines that nothing but igno- 
rance, bigotry, dogma, and superstition belong to the church. 
As to his cry about ' Unitarianism,' I cannot see upon what 
he bases his insinuations. He has read, I think, what Mr. 
Bryant wrote, and he cannot see that Mr. Bryant's Unita- 
rianism may embrace much more of Christ than his own 
orthodoxy. The poor fellow is to be pitied. We must la- 
ment the existence of such men. Therefore, do not say a 
word about him, or to him. You observe, too, I 'am not 
the only man he pitches into. On another page he under- 
takes to review Phillips Brooks.' Poor fellow, he has no 
conception of what it is Brooks says. ' The Saviour told 
his disciples, Blessed are ye when you are persecuted, and 
all manner of things are said against you falsely;' — they were 
blessed, because they were in advance of their persecutors. 
Sad a sight as is the Churchman, and such men as its edi- 
tors, the sight of them is very encouraging. They prove 
that the world does move. Let us thank God and take 



234 octavius perinchief. 

" Bridgeport, Pa., November 11, 1870. 

" People have not the courage to live wisely ; taste and 
appetite govern most people, much more than most people 
govern taste and appetite. I cannot see what claim we can 
lay to civilization, as long as we continue our social prac- 
tices as they are. When friends come to see us, we always 
imagine they come for something to eat, and very often what 
they ought not to eat, and plenty of it, is all they get. These 
thoughts occurred to me a moment ago, as I was reading what 
Dr. Hall says in his book on health and diet, about suppers : 
4 preserves,' ' berries and cream,' &c, they have kept me away 
from making a call many a time, not because I did not dare 
to refuse, but because I knew it was the chief thing to be 
offered; and, in the language of Dr. Johnson, ' no man 
likes to see his all despised.' 

" I do not know why it is, so many of my friends imag- 
ine I am abstemious in my habits of living. It is a mistake; 
I wish I were. The Dr. says, a man requires five or six 
pounds of food per day. I think I get that much regularly; 
and then often find I have taken too much. Dr. Hall re- 
commends plain meats and coarse bread; that is precisely 
what I am fond of. I differ a little from most people, in 
that I take my allowance at two meals, with nothing 
between. I differ a little, too, from most people in taking 
little beside substantial. When I have enough of ' plain 
meats and coarse bread,' I think a man does not need any 
more, and therefore do not take any more. 

" February 13, 1871. 
" It is all well enough to talk about our modern civiliza- 
tion, but I often think its cost in human life, in trouble and 
unrest, in wear and tear, are far more than a great deal of it 
is worth. On land and on sea, in war and in peace, at home 
and abroad, by night and by day, all is grinding forever- 
more on this poor human heart. We wake in care, and lie 
down in distress, and know not whether most to deplore 



LETTERS TO JOHN A. GRAHAM. 235 

those who are gone, or pity those who remain. There must 
be a better world than ours. We know there is ; may God 
so bless us that out of our experience here, we may learn 
the lessons of humility, contentment and faith, and so be 
prepared for the places in that better world, which God, 
.1 trust, is preparing for us. 

" May 9, 1872. 
" Life is very even and quiet, and, in many ways, I very 
much like it. Everything is rushing by us, but up here we 
somehow have an eddy as still as a pond or a puddle, only 
we are not quite stagnant. We have our ebbs and flows, 
showing we are in someway connected with the general 
tide. I can look out calmly upon the world, not caring 
very specially whose head aches next year in the White 
House, whether Mr. Greeley's, or Mr. Grant's. ' All life 
has its compensations,' and, in this respect, I imagine I have 
some little advantage over you, for I hear you have been to 
Cincinnati ; I hope everything went satisfactorily to you 
there. For my own part, while I have always admired Mr. 
Greeley, I had never thought of him exactly as a President. 

" May 28, 1872. 
" I am exceedingly obliged to you for that copy of the 
4 Science Monthly;' I am much delighted with it. If you 
send me the second number, as you so kindly propose, then 
my subscription need not begin until the third. This is an 
enterprise I would very gladly see prosper in this country. 
It is very much needed, and I believe it will be sustained. 
It will help men who are now thinking along their own 
solitary lines; it will stimulate thought in those who have 
not thought before ; it will gradually elevate the tone of 
our entire literature. If it can only get into our church 
people, it will make many many of them more truly relig- 
ious. Success to it. 



236 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" York, Pa., June 6, 1874. 
" Blank has just written a book against Blank. He is 
only trying to pull down what he has spent a whole life in 
building up. High churchism as naturally grows into rit- 
ualism as a kitten grows into a cat. However, it is very 
comforting to know, that neither God nor man care any 
longer for any of their isms. Swing's trial has been very 
edifying to me in one way. The world is moving and that 
too in right lines toward our Heavenly Father, out of whose 
love no Dr. Blank or inquisition can any longer cheat us. 

" Mount Holly, August 23, 1875. 

" I have read those two books you kindly sent me, Draper's 
' Religion and Science,' and the Duke of Somerset's ' Chris- 
tian Theology.' I write now more particularly to thank you 
for them. 

" Draper's book is better than I expected to find it. I 
knew it was a book with something in it, but I find a great deal 
in it, and I am satisfied there is a great deal more in it than 
he has put in so many words upon the face of it. This book, 
like many others of recent origin, convinces me that there 
is such a thing as the spirit of an age, a something which 
turns the general mind in a given direction. It startles me 
a little to find in books, things which I have dug out little 
by little. It startles me to find in black and white, conclu- 
sions at which I have very reluctantly arrived, which I have 
tried to resist, but at last found irresistible. And there are 
yet other things which must come, for there is much that is 
• rotten in Denmark !' — other things which have made me 

CD 

sick in discovering them, and now make me sick in contem- 
plating them. What changes the last twenty-five years have 
wrought ! How much greater changes the next twenty-five 
years will work ! All too late however, for me personally ; 
I was born too soon or too late. The churches, the ministry ? 
the theology of the past will not do for the future. The new 
wine cannot be put into the old bottles. 



LETTERS TO JOHN A. GRAHAM. 237 

u The Duke of Somerset's book is hardly a book. There 
is really very little in it. It is not a spontaneous production 
of his, it is a mechanical collection of scraps, things some- 
body else has evolved; many of those things are true enough, 
but they lack life. Some of them are not true at all, only 
i My Lord Duke ' don't know it. In some cases he don't 
even see the idea he wants to hit. He simply fires up the 
tree, violating Davy Crockett's first law of shooting. The 
work of the true seer is not destruction, but construction. 
If the Duke had lived fifty or a hundred years ago he would 
have been in his proper time. Any landsman can see the 
waves and the storm and the rocks, but the true pilot is the 
man who takes us safely past them. Men like Draper and 
Arnold show us a continent ahead. The Duke of Somerset 
only tells us there is not one behind us. 

"Mt. Holly, K J., January 18, 1876. 
"Your letter this morning is very refreshing. I have no 
doubt I shall enjoy the article referred to in the monthly. 
Yes, the attrition you speak of is going on and is greater 
than we can know. There is hope in that; but, like all 
good rules, it works both ways. Action and reaction are 
equal. The continued dropping wears us out, too. Mill- 
stones themselves get worn out after awhile. None of us last 
forever. Yes, I have concluded to go back to Bridgeport. 
I got into a very bad way. I have not slept ten nights 
in three months. It is not exactly the work that I do that 
kills me; it is the fearful conditions under which I have 
to do it — the mechanical routine — the formal official parish 
work. This writing and speaking two sermons a week is 
impossible to a man who has not the constitution of an ox. 
The making of churches pay, filling up the pews, and being 
expected to preach what the Pews know already! No man 
can do it. That feeling you speak of in Dean Stanley does 
largely influence me in my move to Bridgeport. In going- 
over there, I hope to rally out of the condition of prostra- 



238 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

tion I am in. I do not intend to write much all summer, 
perhaps not at all. I have in my mind a purpose to start 
a paper in the fall, not anything to involve expense, but a 
monthly that I can manage myself. I have frequent ap- 
plications for my sermons, and so I think I will print one 
each month. Then, with articles on the subjects that are 
so constantly in my mind, and which I cannot put into ser- 
mons — the ministry, its present condition, masses outside 
the church, and why, &c. — not a church paper at all, for one 
of its object will be to show the folly of so many sects. I 
feel I must say some of the things I have rooted in my con- 
victions. I don't expect much praise for saying them, but 
if I can break the ice and make it easier navigation for those 
coming after me, that will be something." 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 



The letters written to me by Mr. Perinchief numbered 
about one hundred and fifty, and while the noble character 
of the man is apparent in all of them, they contain many 
passages which are too confidential to be admitted into 
these pages. On the other hand, there are many of them 
which can be introduced with propriety, and are calculated 
to do good. 

My intimacy with him commenced in 1867, soon after 
he was settled over St. John's Church, in Georgetown, and 
from the first I was surprised and delighted with his preach- 
ing. After many months had elapsed, and I had fully tested 
his remarkable powers, I was so impressed with the great 
value of his sermons, that I suggested the publication of a 
volume, which was duly accomplished. The edition came 
out in 1869, and was soon exhausted, and the book has since 
been in such demand that many unfilled orders for it have 
been in my possession for several years. It was, also, my 
privilege to edit and publish a second collection in 1870, 
which sermons were delivered in Memorial Church, Balti- 
more. I may be wrong in my estimate, but those two vol- 
umes, and a large proportion of all the sermons Mr. Perin- 
chief delivered in Georgetown, Baltimore, Mount Bolly, 
and Bridgeport, are unsurpassed in modern literature, for 
beauty and eloquence. After he left Georgetown he hon- 
ored me with his continued friendship and correspondence, 
until the close of his life, and it was my privilege to visit 
him in the places where he was located. Shortly after the 
commencement of his last illness, he expressed a wish, which 
was communicated to me by Mrs. Perinchief, that I would 



240 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

visit him at Bridgeport. I did so, without delay, and found 
him very ill, but entirely resigned to his impending fate. 
Perfect love for his fellow creatures everywhere, was in 
every utterance of his lips, and a triumphant faith in the 
mercy and the wisdom of God, the atonement of the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and the in-dwelling of the Holy Spirit, ban- 
ished everything like apprehension in regard to the future. 
He told me all about his business affairs, and I was much 
gratified to find that, through the practice of great self- 
denial on his part, he had providently applied, out of his 
small salary, a sufficient amount to pay regularly the pre- 
miums on his life insurance policies, whereby he was likely 
to leave his family with a comfortable competency. During 
that visit he intimated to me that his journals and all his ser- 
mons would be accessible to me after his death, if I should 
desire to read them ; and, for some reason which was not ex- 
plained, he said that a certain sermon on the subject of Faith 
would be presented to me by his daughter Lucy; and that 
sermon, with many others of equal value, I hope to publish 
on some future occasion. 

All who have read the story of his life in this volume, and 
know the privations that he endured, will be interested to 
learn the fact that during my visit to Mr. Perinchief, at 
this time, he informed me that he had nothing weighing 
upon his mind, in regard to financial matters but a single 
debt amounting to one hundred dollars, which he was very 
anxious to settle. 

On my return to Georgetown, a purse of nearly two hun- 
dred dollars was immediately raised, among his old parish- 
oners, by a lady of the congregation. The money was sent 
to him, received with surprise, and gratefully acknowl- 
edged. 

Before proceeding with such extracts as I propose to make 
from the letters in my possession, I will submit in this place 
a few remarks, on his character : 

In a social way, I saw most of Mr. Perinchief during 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 241 

"his residence in Georgetown, and Bridgeport. We were 
wont to take rural walks and drives together in the former 
place, but they were far too infrequent for his own health. 
The trouble was, that he would not stop working except 
upon compulsion. There was always some ignorant soul, 
some sick man or disconsolate widow, or some pauper, "by 
the world forgot," whose condition seemed resting on his 
mind, and he often acted as if he thought it a sin to enjoy 
himself, when there was so much suffering within his reach. 
He was an intense lover of nature ; had studied natural his- 
tory extensively, and loved to compare his own researches 
with those of others; and, in fact, possessed a true poetic 
passion for the beauties and glories of the natural world. 
I sometimes induced him to go upon a fishing excursion 
along the banks of the lovely Potomac, when he would, for 
& brief period, abandon himself to the joys of a fisherman's 
life, and we always returned home entirely successful ; for 
the sunshine had placed a tinge of brown upon his cheek, 
the wild fiowers told him some of their immortal secrets, 
and the falling waters had attuned his ear to echoes from the 
far-off home of his childhood by the summer sea, or lured 
his thoughts into that future realm of being, watered by 
the river of eternal life; and my success consisted in the 
priceless privilege of spending a day under the open sky in 
the companionship of a good and wise man. 

No one enjoyed a quiet gathering of a few friends more 
than Mr. Perinchief, but he was a most unsatisfactory man 
at the table. He seemed to prefer plain food, and generally 
declined to take more than a taste of the delicacies set 
before him. All that, however, was owing to his bad health ; 
and he never indulged in anything like a feast without 
suffering from its effects for one or two days. His fate 
seemed to be that of always working and seldom enjoying 
his food; and, in my own mind, I frequently compared him 
to a steam engine made of glass. The particular day of 
the week which he pretended to set aside for recreation 

16 



242 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

was Monday, but he was generally so completely exhausted 
from the labors of the preceding Sunday that he often had 
not the ability to do anything. When Congress was in 
session he sometimes went over to the Capitol to listen to 
the debates ; but to a man who looked upon life as some- 
thing serious and important, there was not much comfort in 
listening to the harangues of politicians. Whilst he was 
there, however, he could, and sometimes did, stroll into the 
national library, and amuse himself with some of the won- 
ders of that great collection of books. 

The chief ambition of this noble Christian minister was 
to preach the pure and simple doctrines of the Bible to 
the poor, to elevate them in culture, and administer to their 
temporal necessities. As a preacher, he was gentle, mag- 
netic, persuasive ; in manner, chaste, strong and eloquent 
in his diction, strictly orthodox in his theology, entirely alive 
to the great, living world around him, and scholarly to an 
uncommon degree. Like the country parson depicted by 
Herbert, he was just, prudent, temperate, bold, and grave in 
all his ways : and, as Walton said of Donne, he proved, by 
both his private and public life, that he had a soft heart and 
was full of compassion ; was too brave a soul to offer injuries,, 
and too much a Christian not to pardon them in others ; so- 
administering reproof or giving advice with delicacy and 
dexterity as not to offend, and always cherishing an unfeigned 
love for God and his fellow-men. He was a good and faith- 
ful churchman, and although always identified with the 
" low church," there was a time, while at the General 
Theological Seminary, when he was tempted to the opposite 
extreme, because of questionable conduct on the part of 
certain low-churchmen. Bat, as time wore on, he had less 
and less sympathy with religious radicalism, whether in his 
own or any other denomination. 

Notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Perinchief's impaired 
health compelled him to change his location frequently, he 
nevertheless managed to make a considerable collection of 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 243 

books. During his stay in Georgetown, the very place of 
all others where every wish should have been gratified, he 
was wholly without the convenience of a study, and it was 
to him a real personal grief. He was a voracious reader, 
and was so wide awake to the living world that nothing 
escaped his attention. The scientists who wrote on evolu- 
tion, as well as those who uttered striking thoughts in 
theology, literature, art, philosophy, or statesmanship, he 
devoured with equal gusto ; and, discriminating between 
facts demonstrated to be true and those purely theo- 
retical he was always ready with a criticism or decided 
opinion on the merits of what he read. He accordingly 
saw nothing in science to cause alarm, but welcomed it as 
a grand agency of human amelioration, in emancipating 
men from superstition, and in making those great conquests 
of nature that have been so powerful in elevating mankind 
from barbarism and carrying on the work of civilization. 
JSTor could he understand how a deeper knowledge of the 
method and mysteries of nature can have any other effect 
than to exalt and purify the conception that man forms 
of the creator and ruler of all things. His faith was not 
of a kind to be disturbed by any progress of knowledge. 
He therefore held all true men of science who dedicated 
themselves to the elucidation of the works of God as pro- 
moters of religion in its best and highest sense. He cheered 
on the labors of scientists, commending their single-minded 
and unswerving devotion to the pursuit of truth, not in any 
sceptical spirit, but as a simple dictate of Christian prin- 
ciple. His enjoyment of real poetry was intense, and there 
was only one thing that he disliked more than sham litera- 
ture, and that was sham religion. Indeed, so far as I could 
understand his disposition for controversy, the absorbing 
idea of his life was to battle against the folly, selfishness, 
narrowness, pretension, and wickedness among professors of 
religion everywhere, and especially in his own denomination. 
An honest and sincere soul he well nigh worshiped, and, 



244 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

in his estimation, many true-hearted pagans deserved more 
consideration than some American doctors of divinity. In 
that particular direction his feelings were very strong, but he 
preferred rather to ply his arguments in conversation with a 
worthy foe, than to enter into public discussions. Undoubt- 
edly, if he could have had the control of an appropriate 
journal, as he once desired, he would have made himself 
felt in many quarters. Unlike some of his English cotempo- 
raries, however, he succeeded in passing through the days of 
his pilgrimage here without any hard battles of opinion in 
the open field of controversy. But, like them, he possessed 
a strong mental individuality, which was a marked trait of 
his character. He was an independent thinker, and broad, 
liberal, and sympathetic in his views. Though a sincere 
Christian, whose religious convictions were part of his very 
being, yet faith in the truth, from whatever source, was an 
essential part of those convictions. He held to the pro- 
gressiveness of Christianity, and that in its necessary pro- 
gress, observances, forms, dogmas, and errors belonging 
to its less developed stages must, more and more, be left be- 
hind, and that principles must take their places: and among 
these principles was a large and cordial toleration of inquiry 
prompting a hearty God-speed to all earnest seekers after 
truth. 

While he entertained a decided feeling of hostility 
against all shams and pretension, especially in high places, 
there were two classes of persecuted people for whom he had 
a friendly regard, viz., tramps and book-agents. The former 
he never turned away from his door without a word of kind- 
ness and a bit of food or money. He had himself felt the 
bitterness of poverty, and a difficulty of making himself 
understood by the world, and hence a " fellow feeling made 
him wondrous kind." As to book-agents, he always treated 
them with kindness, and thought they were useful people. 
He never wanted any of their books, and knew that many of 
the things they peddled were trashy, but he thought a poor 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 245 

book was better than none at all, and that these agents often 
disposed of books in families where nothing of the kind 
would otherwise be seen. It was only when these agents 
went forth as proselytes of some bigoted religious society 
that he felt disposed to turn them away. On the other hand, 
there was one popular custom which he heartily condemned, 
that of the religious press, in trying to obtain subscri- 
bers by the presentation of chromo pictures. His views on 
this subject were novel, and in a remonstrance which he sent 
to a publisher who had asked him to obtain subscribers 
he expressed the following opinions : " Now, what do you 
propose to do, or for me to do ? You want me to get two 
new 7 subscribers, and so pay my subscription. I go and ask 
a man to take your paper; I praise it; I tell him what I 
shall gain, and he subscribes to help me. Or, I do not tell 
him what I shall gain. He finds out I made something by 
the operation and his confidence in me — in any desire on my 
part for his welfare — is wholly dissolved or seriously shat- 
tered. Or, for the sake of a picture, I induce him to pay down 
his money. An ulterior, indirect object creates an illegiti- 
mate unchristian incentive. I have taught him to indulge 
his thirst for a gain he has not paid for. I have touched 
within him the spring of self, the spring of all the devil there 
is in him. He learns to look upon me as upon the agent of 
some "gift enterprise." He reads an article in your paper 
on dispassionate disinterested Christian love. He says " Yes, 
but where is it ?" He finds that the editor runs the paper, 
the publishers run the editor, and " covetousness which is 
idolatry," runs the whole concern. Where is your religious 
influence over that man ? How much more religion is there 
upon earth ? Where is Christ ? Where is Christianity ? 
Where any good ? Is not this whole world a quack ? Are 
not the churches and religious newspapers a part of it ? We 
sow chaff and the east wind, and because God is God we do 
not reap bread, and the divine life. Would that some of us 
could once more do something which is not for gain. If 



246 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

we could only gain God's favor to rest upon us all ! What 
would I propose ? This : if you can afford to give away so 
many chromos, then you could afford to put the price of the 
paper at a lower figure. Do you know how hard it is for 
some of us to live? The devil is saying to us " turn these 
stones into bread," and God knows some of us are tempted 
to do it ; tempted to try to live by bread only. Bring the 
paper within the means of a larger number. Do I hear you 
say you aim at that already ? Then do it. Do it honestly. 
Do it christianly. Say to the world, " we desire our paper 
to reach the hands of a larger number, so we reduce the 
price." * * * My own chromos ! Yes, I don't know 
what I shall do with them ; but do what I will, I shall always 
feel I have very little right to them ; for I say again, I have 
paid /or the paper and think it worth the money." 

The longest visit it was my privilege to enjoy at Mr. 
Perinchief's house, was made in the summer before his 
death at Bridgeport, with my wife and Japanese ward. 
His house was only forty minutes ride from the Centennial 
Exhibition, and we all wished to enjoy the great treasure 
houses together. Mr. Yoshida Kiyonari, the Japanese 
Minister, heard of the arrangement and thought he would 
like to be near us. I wrote to Mr. Perinchief to secure 
rooms somewhere in Bridgeport, or at Norristown, where- 
upon the diplomat and his wife were at once invited to 
share with us at the parsonage, which invitation was 
accepted. Then came a request from two Japanese young 
ladies who were prosecuting their studies in ISTew Haven, 
that comfortable quarters, might be found for them also in 
the vicinity, and in the kindness of their hearts, Mr. and 
Mrs. Perinchief insisted that they could make room for the 
young ladies also. The consequence was that the Perin- 
chief parsonage soon became a kind of head-quarters for 
the Japanese generally. Many of them came up from 
Philadelphia to visit their diplomatic representative. 






LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 247 

Among those were the head of the commission from Japan, 
General Saigo, and Messrs. Sekizawa and Tanaka. Mr. 
Perinchief did everything to make his guests and their 
friends as comfortable as possible. Frequent visits were 
made to the exhibition, and in the afternoon and evening, 
the wonders that had been seen were discussed on the 
pleasant piazza of the parsonage ; and on the lawn fronting 
the house it was most agreeable to see the Minister and 
the General from the far Orient, playing croquet with the 
merry group, comprising the daughters of Mr. Perinchief 
and the children from Japan. While the " lady of the 
manse " did everything within her. sphere to make every- 
body comfortable and happy, Mr. Perinchief was always 
busy, here, there and everywhere, working to promote the 
enjoyment of all but himself, except as his attention to 
others afforded him pleasure. He proposed delightful 
drives in every direction, and posted everybody in regard 
to the history of every interesting locality. If Mr. Yoshida 
wanted to enjoy a little fishing — men, boat, and bait, 
appeared as if by magic ; and on one occasion the Diplo- 
mat was taken to a private pond, where he captured about 
sixty pounds of trout in a single morning. 

It was at this time, too, that Prince Oscar, second son of 
the King of Sweden, accompanied by the Swedish Ambas- 
sador and the members of the Swedish Centennial Com- 
mission, visited Bridgeport, by invitation of the vestry of 
the old Swedes Church. Mr. Perinchief preached an his- 
torical sermon on the occasion, it being the one hundred 
and sixteenth anniversary of the erection of the church, in 
which he gave a history of the Swedish Colony, which 
settled on the north side of the Delaware in 1638, and 
which subsequently established numerous Lutheran 
churches ; the old Swedes Church, at Bridgeport, being the 
only church that remains under its original independent 
organization — sole heir to all the traditions of its Swedish 
founders. It was this fact that made the occasion one of 



248 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

deep interest to the visitors. After the sermon, Mr. Per- 
inchief gave an entertainment to the distinguished for- 
eigners, performing the honors like a noble Christian 
gentleman. 

The only time when Mr. Perinchief allowed himself to 
enjoy any quiet, whatever, was after supper, and from that 
hour until past midnight, his conversation was superb. 

He and Mr. Yoshida, however, were the only two mem- 
bers of the household who Were so benighted as to forget 
that sleep was a necessity to keep the body in good trim ; 
but such talks as those two men enjoyed, under the bright 
starlight, and with a lovely country resting in perfect peace- 
before them, was something remembered with solid satis- 
faction by the two participants. Human life, religion, and 
history, as they existed in two hemispheres, passed in review 
as the twain conversed ; and their interchange of thoughts,- 
as each of them duly testified to me, had an elevating and 
purifying influence upon their minds. Those pleasant days 
and profitable nights, however, soon came to an end, aud 
when the summer guests had to depart from the pleasant 
parsonage, little did they think that the remains of the 
beloved and good man, who had given life to every sceue- 
and incident, w T ould, in a few months, be at peace in the pic- 
turesque grave-yard of the old Swedes Church, on the banks 
of the Schuylkill. But there was one man in Bridgeport 
with whom Mr. Perinchief was in the habit of having long 
talks on the highest themes, and that was his near neigh- 
bor, William B. Pambo, Esq. The friendship which existed 
between these two men was most sincere; and I can testify 
to the fact that each one considered himself indebted to 
the other, for many hours of delightful and profitable com- 
panionship. And it was chiefly through Mr. Rambo's 
influence that Mr. Perinchief was induced to return to 
Bridgeport. 

The story of Mr. Perinchief's life is fraught with lessons 
of the greatest value for all those, whether young or old,. 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 249 

who would do their duty in this world, and at the same 
time enjoy the hopes which have their fruition beyond the 
grave. The opinions which he so freely expressed in regard 
to the condition of the church to which he belonged, will 
not be relished by some of his colleagues in the ministry r 
but the truthfulness of his observations is the very best 
reason tor extending their circulation. 

His feelings towards what is called modern Christianity 
in general, were not different from those which he held in 
regard to the Episcopal Church ; but like a true man, he 
thought it best to try and purify his own denomination 
first, and after that had been perfected, then would be 
time enough to attend to others. Nor did he think it his 
duty to make war upon the laity, because, without being 
properly fortified behind a spotless church, that would have 
been foolishness. 

With an eye that could not be deceived, he saw that the 
great trouble was with his fellow-preachers, not excepting 
himself; and it was his perpetual prayer that something 
might be done to make the church, which he so sincerely 
loved, what it should be. He disapproved of the Cum- 
ming's secession movement, believing that reformations 
should be wrought out within the church, and that it was 
his duty to sustain the efforts of the liberal and enlightened 
churchmen, who are working in that direction. In his 
opinions, on this subject, he paid no respect to persons, nor 
did he trim his opinions for any purpose whatsoever. His 
convictions were so strong that he would allow nothing to 
stand in their way ; and yet with all his boldness and icono- 
clasm, he was as gentle and loving as a child, and hardly 
ever uttered a severe opinion, verbally or in writing, with- 
out concluding it with a prayer for those he criticised, or an 
acknowledgment of his own weakness and shortcomings. 
For him to say a hard thing against any man or set of men r 
from motives of personal pique or animosity, was simply 
impossible. He would sooner have lavished acts of kind- 



250 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ness or mercy, as he often did, upon an adversary, than 
upon a friend; and, indeed, it was no unusual thing for 
him to take his own money, of which he never had a sur- 
plus, and in a private manner pass it into the hands of 
some suffering and unfortunate man, not a resident of his 
parish, who had, perhaps, never mentioned his name with- 
out a sneer, because of his profession. He did not take it 
for granted that every man without the pale of his particu- 
chureh was on the direct road to destruction ; and in his 
dealings with men of the world, he never obtruded his 
opinions or attempted to proselyte. He took especial care, 
however, that no act or utterance on his part should give 
any one occasion to say — " There goes a man who makes a 
great parade of his religion, but he is as selfish and fond of 
the world as any of the ungodly !" In the pulpit he recog- 
nized no single individual, and his utterances were given to 
the multitude for their comfort and instruction, or for the 
warning of all. He did not believe in seizing hold of a 
non-professor, and cramming him with texts from Scripture, 
and then consigning him to eternal death if his scheme of 
proselyting should fail ; but when a man came to him in a 
quiet way, sincerely asking for light to guide him to the 
better land, then he was perfectly happy. And, if the 
seeker after truth were in rags or depraved, he would be 
lifted up in mind, by words of sacred wisdom, spoken in 
pure love ; thus infusing into an ignorant man the spirit 
of the Bible, though he may never have read a verse from 
its pages. When confronted by a cultivated man of the 
world, and sharply questioned on doctrinal points, he 
delighted to go into the fullest arguments; and if his bril- 
liant logic failed in the desired effect, it was because the 
case in hand was utterly hopeless. Poor forsaken mothers, 
and desolate widows, loved to tell him of their troubles, 
and to listen to his voice, " soft, gentle, and low," telling 
them of the life-saving truths of the Bible. Bipe scholars 
and others, who had been leaders in the world, sought his 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 251 

companionship and enjoyed the results of his extensive 
reading, rare wisdom, and varied experiences. 

As to his manner in the pulpit, already alluded to, it was 
.always dignified and earnest. He appeared to feel that he 
had something of the highest importance to do, and that it 
must be done with appropriate solemnity. He read the 
Bible as if it were indeed a priceless volume; the general 
services with distinctness and care ; and the prayers with 
such unction and humility as to make them seem his own 
productions. His voice, though not loud, was distinct and 
agreeable, and his enunciation so clear as to bring out the 
full meaning. In passing from the desk to the pulpit, his 
steps were natural, and always as if he felt that he was in 
.the presence of God, regardless of men. He always had 
Iris sermon before him, but seldom appeared to read from 
its pages ; and generally finished it in about thirty minutes. 
His reasoning was close, his illustrations living and to the 
point, his pathos sometimes supremely touching, and, when 
resting upon one arm, and leaning forward to plead with 
his hearers to live pure Christian lives, the effect was often 
very faseinating and impressive. He was, perhaps, too 
rapid a speaker, but he had a wonderful yet natural habit 
of modulating his voice, and when its sweet tones were 
heralded by the loving gaze of his penetrating eyes, his 
eloquence, in uttering the words of eternal life, was truly 
remarkable. An idea of its general effect upon his hearers, 
cannot be better conveyed than in the words expressed by 
the widow of an eminent divine in New York, herself now 
deceased : " No other preacher has ever so riveted my 
attention as he does." The late Bishop Mcllvaine, of the 
diocese of Ohio, when once on a visit to Georgetown, heard 
him preach, and was so deeply impressed with the discourse 
that he said, " It contained thought enough for three 
sermons." 

Passing from the pulpit to the hearthstone, we shall find 
that, in this hallowed place, Mr. Perinchief was circum- 



252 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

spect, high-toned, cheerful, affectionate, and careful for 
everything, so far as his bodily pains would allow. 

The letters which he wrote to his wife, most of them too 
sacred to be published, give evidence of his faithfulness as 
a husband and father. It is true, that the maintenance of 
his family was sometimes measured by scanty resources, 
but as good old Fuller says, in speaking of just such a man, 
in regard to his wife, " Her allowance, if shorter than her 
deserts and his desire, he lengthened out with his courteous 
carriage unto her, chiefly in her sickness; then, not so 
much pitying her as providing necessaries for her." He 
was a lover of home, wherever it might be located, and 
there he always had his tool-box. not only keeping every- 
thing in repair about the premises, by his own hand, but 
displaying much skill in making all sorts of convenient, 
and sometimes ornamental articles, for the use of the 
household. In his love of nature, he delighted in beautify- 
ing his grounds with shade trees, shrubbery, and flowers, 
while the horse in the barn, the chickens in the yard, the 
home-loving birds in the trees, the dog or kittens on the 
porch, all received a share of his attentions ; and whenever 
the parsonage happened to be blessed with a vegetable gar- 
den, he usually performed all the labor of a gardener, and 
took out his pay by giving to the poor the surplus of the total 
yield. 

As a father, no man could possibly be more completely 
absorbed in the happiness and improvement of his children 
than he was at all times, and in every place. When not 
living near enough to a good school to have them well 
taught, he took upon himself the labor of instructing them, 
and when he found it necessary to do that, he was sure to 
call in a few children from the neighborhood, always 
striving to do all the good in his power. I have often seen 
him after reading the Bible and a morning prayer, gather 
them close by his side, with perhaps two of them upon his 
knees at the same time, and entertain them with wise and 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 253 

playful conversation, but always telling them to be kind to 
everybody, and not to let the day pass without doing some 
good ; and also impressing it upon them as a sacred duty, 
that they must do all in their power to assist their mother 
in her arduous household cares. The present and future 
welfare of his children was to him one of the ruling pas- 
sions of his life. 

Another characteristic that should be mentioned here, 
has reference to the frequent changes that he made from 
one parish to another. Those who were not personally 
acquainted with him, and others who are content to pass 
through life half-asleep, may be tempted to charge him 
with instability, but such criticisms would be unjust. To 
say nothing of his physical constitution, which was never 
strong, the privations which he endured when passing 
through college, and an accident which happened to him in 
Kansas when he seriously injured his spine, so shattered 
his constitution that he was oftentimes well-nigh unable 
to control his nervous system. Painful bodily suffering 
followed him everywhere like a nightmare, and it was the 
hope of finding relief in his distress of both body and mind, 
that compelled him to change his parishes so frequently. 
It was his continued bad health, moreover, which always 
made him reluctant to take charge of a large congregation, 
and although several tempting offers were made to him in 
that direction, he never ventured to accept one. And 
then again, he entertained the idea that even the most able- 
bodied preachers ought not to be willing, nor should they 
be permitted to deal out their religious platitudes forever 
in one place, or to one people. Indeed in these views as 
well as many others, he was an imitator of St. Paul, who 
tarried but a brief season in the cities of the Gentiles. 
Like the majority of the human race, he was the victim of 
circumstances, and yet it is a grand and instructive fact, 
that while he had charge of some eight or ten churches 
during his life, he never left one of them, that was not at 



254 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

the time of his leaving in a far more prosperous condition 
than when he became its pastor. 

In estimating Mr. Perinchief's work it must not be 
forgotten that it was done under great bodily and mental 
trials. His case was not unlike that of Frederick W. 
Robertson, who wrote of his own " intensity of suffering in 
the brain and utter powerlessness and prostration too dread- 
ful to describe," the cause, a tumor of the brain, which 
cost Robertson his life. Mr. Perinchief was the victim of 
an accident, alluded to above, which, though not fatal, 
caused " a lesion of the cerebro-spinal system." This pro- 
duced the most distracting restlessness and sleeplessness, by 
which the power of intellectual work was greatly impaired 
and impeded. Happily, but few know the terrible draw- 
backs to mental accomplishment entailed by this disease ; 
and when he says in one of his letters, " I have not slept 
ten nights in three months," we can only wonder how it 
was that he continued to do so much, and so well. In the 
purity and unselfishness of his character, as well as in his 
physical weakness, and itinerant experiences he was more 
like John Woolman than any other man of the century ; 
and we may truly say of him what Charles Lamb said of 
the good Friend — "get his writings by heart." They were 
also alike in their hostility to slavery, but not to detract 
one iota from the good Quaker in that particular, the eman- 
cipation for which Perinchief battled, was that of all man- 
kind from the dominion of a sinful life. It is to me a 
singular coincidence, moreover, that these two men should 
have been associated with -the town of Mount Holly ; and 
also, that each one died far removed from the place of his 
birth, as if Providence would emphasize the fact that the 
lives of even the best of men in this world, are nothing 
but a pilgrimage to one far better and infinitely enduring. 
As we read the lives of Robertson and Kingsley, we are 
impressed and fascinated by their strong individuality ; and 
this quality, as already hinted, is unquestionably one of the 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 255 

attractions in the life-story recorded in this volume. When 
a man's convictions are a primary element of his being and 
firm as the hills, it is only just that his criticisms of things 
evil, and his prayers for the ultimate triumph of religious 
truth should both be considered with affectionate regard. 

" Georgetown, D. C, Christmas night, 1867. 

" Your many and great kindnesses to me, so constantly 
and so delicately conveyed, have often deeply impressed 
me. Recent delicacies from yourself and w T ife, seasoned 
with benevolent wishes ; refreshing remembrances at 
Thanksgiving ; w T alks and books in summer time ; to say 
nothing of other things, have often made me w T onder you 
should feel so much interest in one so uninteresting as I 
have always felt myself to be. But your present to us on 
Christmas eve, took me by surprise. I do not know how 
to express my feelings better than by telling you it went to 
my heart. Nothing could have been more acceptahle than 
that painting. It is the first and only oil picture we have, 
and (not to mention its beauty,) that you should have taken 
the pains to prepare it for us, gives us the greatest pleasure. 
I do not wish to inflict upon you a long note, I only write 
at all, because, if I should undertake to say anything to 
you I should either break down or you would hush it all 
up before I had said ten words. I am very undemonstra- 
tive of my better feelings and grateful emotions, painfully 
inexpressive sometimes where common v courtesy demands 
in me some acknowledgments. But I beg of you and your 
good wife, whether I say much or say little or nothing at 
all, never to think I am forgetful or unappreciative. I 
most deeply cherish your brotherly regard, and in this 
instance ask you to accept our sincerest thanks. 

" This is Christmas night, and my thoughts and heart 
have been much to-day with my people. I ought to have 
said something to them of their many remembrances of me 
and mine, since we came among them, but I could not trust 



256 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

myself to do it. Too many strangers were present at 
church for me to make a parade of what I felt towards a 
generous people, as I have proved mine to be. I believe, 
moreover, that they would have preferred I should say 
nothing. Still my prayers have not the less gone up for 
God's blessing on you all, coupled, too, with the petition 
that I may be, in part, the instrument of conveying it, 
though one of my troubles is, I cannot do the half my 
heart finds to do. 

" Georgetown, D. C, February 23, 1869. 

[Written in reply to a request that he should furnish a collection of his 
sermons for publication.] 

" I hardly know what to say in reply to your letter of the 
22d. Of the making of books there is no end. Of some 
books it would appear that they had better never have been 
made. Possibly, however, to the poorest book attaches at 
least some local value, and if it fill only a local sphere it 
will not have been made wholly in vain. I would gladly 
leave with the people of St. John's some memorial of my 
ministry among them. It is gratifying to me to know that 
you and others desire it, and yet I am afraid I have little 
that is worthy of the object. My people have been toward 
me peculiarly indulgent, and I cannot help thinking my 
sermons derive more value from that consideration than 
from any merit of their own. Still, I could not desire to 
go away feeling I had been speaking words of comfort, of 
instruction, or of warning, which had taken no root in their 
hearts, and as I would like to live in their memories — and 
hope that some thought I may have imparted may live in 
their lives — I do not see how I can do better than to set 
aside a critical judgment and yield to your wishes. 

" To many of my people I am under special obligations. 
To you, in particular, I am indebted for many brotherly 
kindnesses, and labors of love. These two years leave me 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 257 

indebted to you all. But if God shall bless you through 
any word or act of mine, if through this volume you pro- 
pose, He shall continue to bless you with spiritual riches in 
Jesus Christ, and at last count us worthy to stand together 
upon the shores of another and a better life, then we shall 
all be rewarded ; and they who have sown and they who 
have reaped shall rejoice together. That so it may be, is 
the earnest prayer of your friend and brother. 

" GERMANTOWN, Pa., April 11, 1869. 

" You may easily imagine I have not been over cheerful 
to-day, my mind and heart have been all the time in George- 
town. The scenes and facts and thoughts of the last two 
years have come back to me, together with the farewells of 
the last two weeks. When I think of everything, I almost 
reproach myself for leaving St. John's, but everything seems 
so mysterious; nearly everybody has told me how sorry 
they were I was going away; the vestry say they had 
every confidence in me and desired to retain me, and yet 
there I was, undergoing martyrdom in that garret, asking 
only for a place in which to work, willing to put up with 
anything if I only had a place I could feel was a study. 
Did that seem unreasonable ? and then they get for a 
new man, before I had gotten away from them, the very 
thing I have wanted for two years. 

" I have often regretted my weak constitution, but never 
more than I do to-day. I some how feel that nobody can 
care for you all, for that town, more than I did. Another 
thing, so many personal friends were raised up to me. Men 
respect us clergy for our work's sake, but I begin to see, 
to some of us it is given to be taken up into the warm 
places of other hearts, to experience that soul-sympathy 
which I think is the joy of the angels, the one charm of 
the circles that are above. I have been thinking that is 
part of the reward of truth, fidelity, and love ; — it is a full 
reward in itself; and if this be but the beginning of the first 
17 



258 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

fruits, what shall the harvest be ? Verily God was good 
and gracious to me and mine in Georgetown, and in the 
conscious light and warmth of that goodness I sit down 
to-day in thankfulness. In recalling the many blessings 
which overtook and followed me, I recall none which I 
cherish more than those friendships. 

" It is no easy matter to stand for the truth at any time 
and anywhere, partly because we must have some misgiv- 
ings as to our own wisdom, and some respect for the opinions 
of others; but when one feels certain truths burn into his 
soul with all the force of real truth — when he sees men in 
error and feels he is sent, if possible, to arrest them — very 
cheering and precious are the first notes of recognition from 
those we consider wise. * * * 

" So far, be my trials in life what they may, the Cross 
still leaves me in its debt ; I have gained more by the Gospel 
than the Gospel has by me. It was in this inspiration that 
I first went out to preach, it is thus I must still go. So far 
the debt only increases, and when I get home at last, and 
we are all there together, we shall see it was from grace, 
from the love of Christ, it all came, and that to Him at last 
all praises are due. For one blessing I feel thankful, that 
in looking back I feel that very many of those to whom I 
preached — though it might sometimes have appeared other- 
wise in my preaching — have entered upon the true and 
better life ; both of those who are members of the church 
and those who are not. I shall miss you all ; but in thank- 
fulness for this fact, in the assurance that now we cannot 
be disunited, I go out to the future, trusting that the same 
hand which has ever been over us all, and the same spirit 
which has been with us all, will never leave nor forsake us, 
but guide us on to that blessed rest where we shall all 
rejoice together. I ought, I suppose, to have given expres- 
sion to some of these feelings in my last sermon to my 
people ; but the thing was impossible, I could not venture. 
In my secret soul I could but commit them to the Lord. 



LETTEKS TO THE EDITOR. 259 

The fact is, my soul feels full, it goes out toward you all, 
the kindness which has already borne so much, and forgiven 
so much, will, I am sure, forgive this also. 

" Germantown, April 20, 1869. 
" Your letters to us have made our souls glad. If ever 
we have done anything or said any word, which sent you on 
your way rejoicing, that service was more than rewarded 
before we left you. Now you have thrown the debt over 
on the other side, and we owe you, and pay you what our 
hearts feel, but what our words cannot tell. I declare to 
you I have read your letter, and that of your wife, with my 
eyes so full of tears I could not see. I am unable to 
describe to you my emotions. I cannot believe I am 
worthy of your esteem — such esteem — such love. I know 
better. I look upon it as the gift of a merciful God, a 
reward, something I have yearned for, but something I 
have always felt unworthy of. I have thought in my own 
heart, by and by, up in the better land, where my works 
had followed me, some soul would be given me— the affec- 
tion of some soul which I had helped, would be my crown 
of rejoicing. I had not expected so much of it here as I 
have been permitted to reap. I knew at last it would 
come, because I have gone on loving and striving to bless, 
sowing the seed. I thought the seed would sprout and 
grow, when I had gone, and the souls in which the growth 
had been would not be conscious of it, till, in the kingdom, 
they reviewed the road they had traveled and the agencies 
that bad helped them. You cannot know what a blessing 
you have been and are to us, but I will not dwell here. I 
will only say, I cease not every day to thank God for His 
gifts to me, and cease not to pray that all of us may go on 
apprehending the things which have so filled us with peace, 
love, and blessing, that at last we may be counted worthy to 
have part and lot in the same eternal heritage. * * * 
I have not got over leaving Georgetown yet, much as I 



260 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

have had to occupy my thoughts ; you cannot know rny 
experiences as I sit and call around me the faces and friend- 
ships of that St. John's congregation. I loved those people 
more than I knew. I cannot forget them — so many of all 
grades — my people. I add together the souls out of the 
congregations which the Lord giveth me, and as I go, I 
truly ' drag a lengthening chain.' Some links are brighter 
than others, and stronger, but I cannot drop one of them. 
Eleven years of humble ministry, what have they not given 
me in giving me these souls ? What would I take in 
exchange for them ? 

" I thank you, both, for your expressions of affection. I 
thank everybody who divests me of every official element, 
and makes me only the friend and brother, the companion 
for time and eternity. 

" Germantown, August 27, 1869. 

u Why should mankind be so dependent upon each other ? 
I know indeed, and recognize the wonderful power one 
soul can exercise over another, I feel it more and more. 

" Whilst mutual influence is a law, I think individual 
independence, of course not without reference to the law, is 
a product God expects of us all. Otherwise, see how 
dependence subjects us to the necessity of being driven by 
contrary or adverse winds. I am getting more and more 
clear in my conviction that the office of the ministry is to 
be exercised in that direction, to teach men to think for 
themselves, not to accept an ipse dixit from anybody, or 
any church, but to think quietly, patiently and uncomplain- 
ingly ; and, unless I am mistaken, I think that was one 
thing I endeavored to teach my people in Georgetown. 

" We are not strong when we only lean on somebody, 
that is true ; better lean on somebody than fall ; but better 
we should be strong enough to stand by ourselves ; and still 
better, to be a tower of strength to others. You recollect 
when Paul was removed from the Galatians, how suddenly 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 261 

they fell away. As long as he was there they ' did well,' and 
no doubt, God not only permitted, but caused Paul to move 
about, not only that he might carry truth, but that the truth 
he planted might be the more certain in its ultimate results. 
!Now suppose by any providence you can learn this indepen- 
dence, learn how to lean not on yourself, but on the truth, 
on God, on the Scripture, on all that Christ tells you ; and 
doing so, you must see how, of necessity, you become 
stronger, and your vision clearer. Life to you will be more 
real, more grand, more solemn ; you will walk on a higher 
plane. 

" This is the want in all our congregations, and because we 
have it not there, this is the want in our pulpits. K"ow out 
of this you can get an idea which may make you sympa- 
thize with clergymen. Where do the clergy get their help ? 
they are mortal and human, like the rest of us. They have 
in books and God's word only that which is common to all. 
Don't you see how God has committed his treasure to 
earthen vessels ? and what a strange thinff it is we are 
blessed as much as we are ; how, by diligence and quiet, 
by thought and good works, we should try to make that 
good as great as possible. What a deep responsibility 
attaches even to the weakest Gospel ! — how we can all be 
helpless or hinderers ! — co-workers with God; or workers 
against God ! And here comes in another thing, this 
dwelling with God, this communion with God ; the soul 
that realizes the dangers on the one side, and the privileges 
on the other, who longs to walk with God, and do the will 
of God in all holy life and labor, will commune with God, 
not only in seclusion, but everywhere, and under all circum- 
stances, often exactly where and when, humanly speaking, 
it were least to be expected. It leads to hours of sol emu 
thought, to that which the mere human eye mistakes for 
gloom, to joys that penetrate all duties, all vocation, all life, 
and makes us feel that paradox of Paul's, c the peace of God 
passeth understanding.' Such a soul alone, in my judg- 



262 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ment, knows what life is, what it is to be alive. All virtue, 
all grace is born there, not as much as we would, but the 
sure pledge of the abundance hereafter. This is life in 
Christ, pure Christian life ; the soul that has it at all longs 
for more. It feels what Christ said, ' I am come that they 
might have life, and have it abundantly.' It is a life that 
grows more and more into the perfect day ; it is not a life 
that can be told ; it is the soul's own, the joy, the peace, the 
love of the spirit. This alone is immortality, as God meant 
it; it is not simply mere continuous existence, but existence 
every breath and atom of which are felt to be a blessing. 
It can come forth only of wisdom, and things truly divine. 
It is God's gift, just as the harvest is ; it is born of the wise 
use of all time, and every faculty we possess. Christ pro- 
cured it, opened the way to it, and bids us take it. The 
obtaining of this is the one thing God contemplates in all 
His providence concerning us. It is the life in us which 
alone makes the kingdom of heaven, makes us worthy sub- 
jects of such a kingdom. Take it out of a soul, and. you 
make the kingdom of heaven for that soul impossible. It 
is worth any sacrifice, all costs. God grant that you and I 
and all of us who have found blessing together on earth may 
have it. God grant it to all the people of old St. John's, 
and all to whom I have ever preached ; for I lose my reward 
in proportion as they fail. 

" Germantown, 
" Sunday Evening, June 27, 1869. 
" Your painting of our home at Mount Savage we are 
pleased with beyond anything you can imagine. My wife 
and I have looked at it now for more than twenty-four 
hours in all lights and shades, and the more we look at it, 
the more are we delighted with it. I do not think you 
could altogether appreciate it. Familiar with every detail, 
the more we look at it, the more we wonder how any skill 
could make such a copy, or produce such an effect. It 



• LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 263 

looks more like our house as it then was, than that same 
house does now. Those two trees, by being true to nature, 
are beautiful, and they are so located in the picture as to 
break the expanse of sky and produce the finest effect. 

" We have been sitting here together this afternoon reviv- 
ing old memories, and counting up our blessings. As a 
general thing my lot in life has been not to be ministered 
unto, so much as to minister, but you, and John A. Graham 
and Thomas D. Middleton have ministered to me vastly 
more than you have been ministered unto. You three 
men — I say nothing of women, they seldom are ministered 
unto so much as they minister, and many are they who 
have ministered to me — but to you three men I stand 
indebted and perhaps always shall, for I see no way by 
which the tables can ever be turned, and possibly it were 
better they never should be, yet I like to know there are 
natures richer than my own ; I love the providence which 
keeps before me the injunction of that nature which was 
richer than all—' freely ye have received, freely give.' 

" I do not know but I have mentioned to you before that 
I have long been in the habit of looking upon myself as an 
investment made by my friends. During this last week 
you and your wife have made an addition to the capital, for 
which, I am afraid, in this world you will not sqoii get the 
interest. 

" Those sermons of Phillips Brooks are not out yet. When 
they do come out I shall see that you get a copy. When 
you read it, I think you will feel you have got hold of a 
sermon. At any rate, when he preached it the sermon got 
hold of me; my heart rejoiced, I felt there was somebody 
left who knew how to preach. 

" Germantown, June 29, 1869. 
" I have staid home to-day to write letters and attend to 
my private matters, which have been running wild for some 
time. I have just thought I did not express to you in my 



264 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

letter of Sunday evening, any sign of my great satisfaction 
and enjoyment at your house last week. I was so taken 
up with the picture, I forgot to thank you for this other 
great service. My three evenings in Georgetown, were 
highly delightful to me, but how could they have been so, 
had not your thoughtfulness, and that of your wife caused 
so many elements to combine. I should not have seen so 
many old friends, if you had not arranged for them to come 
and see me. I cannot tell you the peculiar pleasure I 
derive from such a visit and such experiences. It is not 
simply pleasure ; there is mingled with it a sense of grati- 
tude to God, that He should have enabled me to live to 
have such experiences together with a sense of unworthi- 
ness, that, after all, it is a great deal more than I deserve, 
I have just received a letter from Mr. Middleton, about the 
sermons. ' They do him good.' ' I am quite certain you have 
no conception of what you have clone in getting up those 
sermons. Ends are met, years are bridged over, homes 
and hearts are reached, events are explained, of which, to 
you time will never speak.' 

"July 5, 1869. 

" To Mrs. L , 

" It is strange how long a man may live in this world,, 
before he knows anything about himself. That was a wise 
prayer of poor Burns — 

' ! wad some power the giftie gie us 
To see oursels as others see us ; ' 

so wise I fear, it is seldom to any great extent answered.. 
In some respects your letter was a revelation to me. I did 
not know before I had a ' dignified manner,' as a clergyman 
or as an}^thing else. I have often been told I had less of 
the clerical air than most of my craft, and I once talked 
with a gentleman a whole forenoon — on high and solemn 
subjects too — before he suspected my calling, and he was 



LETTEES TO THE EDITOR. 265- 

greatly surprised when he found he had been talking to a 
clergyman as he would have talked to any other man ; still 
there is great truth in what you say, only you and your 
friend have a very gentle way of expressing it. Some 
people have a way of making others feel instantly at ease, 
some have not. It is a faculty, I am sorry to say, I never 
had, and still more sorry to say, I believe I never shall have. 
It is generally acquired, though of course the natural foun- 
dations for it vary. People who are much in society have it. 
The clergy often have it, though there are frequent instances 
in which it is wanting. Its absence in me arises from several 
causes ; much of my life has been spent in retirement, then 
I have certain notions respecting the ministry. From some 
observations I have made, it appears to me the clergyman 
is often lost in the mere social element. He is sometimes 
a mere ' figure-head ' to a piece of good society. The 
pastoral relation merges into an intercourse merely friendly, 
and parochial visits are only gusts of parish gossip. Of 
course it would be delightful, if w r e could have everything 
in its exact proportion. That condition will one day be 
realized,' only not in my time. At present we seldom gain 
in one direction without losing in another. Now my idea 
is — everything to its purpose. For instance, you go to a 
pump to get water ; a dry pump, however ornamental, is 
little comfort to a thirsty soul, and if merely ornamental is 
in reality not a pump. You go to a clergyman for instruc- 
tion, for comfort, for just a certain something you may get 
elsewhere, but which you ought to get from him. My 
endeavor to guard myself here, drives me into a ' dignity ' 
which creates awkwardness in others. The fear of only 
borrowing enjoyment where I meant to lend something 
useful, drives me into a reserve which defeats the object of 
both parties. 

" Then another thing, ' when Greek meets Greek, then 
comes the tug of war.' When two reserved souls come 
face to face, there must be silence and dignity. Few people 



266 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

treat the clergy just as they treat other people. We are 
looked upon as a race of superior beings, and error always 
leads to confusion. Now, I think as a general thing, we 
get according to what we carry, and to recur to that elegant 
figure of the pump once more, you know from some pumps 
you never can get a drop of water until you have poured a 
pitcher full in, then you get all you want; I am very much 
a pump of that sort, and this accounts for some of my expe- 
riences. I am not always reserved and dignified. Only 
the last time I was in Georgetown a lady, a poor woman, 
told me she had never seen anybody before to whom she 
could express herself as she could to me ; that I took up 
her troubles and helped her through. Think of that ! And 
people have often told me that however well they knew me 
they really never knew me until they got into trouble, but 
after all, the secret of the whole thing is not the trouble, 
that is only the occasion, the real thing wanted is the first 
pitcher of water. People have an idea that I get hold 
of them, but it is the other way, they get hold of me* 
Often, I grant, it is like getting hold of an icicle or a 
chestnut burr, but if they will only persevere, they will find 
that whether one or the other, there is refreshment after its 
kind and up to its capacity. 

" Philadelphia, July 7, 1869. 
"Now, I shall not undertake to argue the case. You 
may be right; at any rate, I never imagine I am absolutely 
right in anything not capable of demonstration. I am 
open to conviction, however firmly I may hold on to what 
I think is right ; but I confess it seems strange to me, that I 
cannot get even you to see things as I see them. At any 
rate I cannot see them as you do. You speak of my 
ability. Well, ' I can't see it.' Shakspeare speaks of 
three classes of men — those born great ; those who achieve 
greatness ; and those who have greatness thrust upon them. 
This, in my judgment, does not cover the human race, and 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 267 

he singularly omits three other classes: Those not born 
great; those who never achieve greatness ; and those who 
never have it thrust upon them. Now, without any ego- 
tism or mock modesty, I must honestly say, I do not belong 
-to either class the poet mentions ; but to one or other, and 
perhaps to all three of those he omits. Greatness is to me 
a thing so great that I cannot recall many characters from 
history which I consider truly embody it; and of living 
men, in this age of ours, my acquaintance has brought me 
in contact with very few. My models in history — to say 
nothing of Him who came not to be ministered unto but to 
minister, and to give his life a ransom for many — are such 
men as John the Baptist, Jeremiah, Elijah, Paul, and that 
type of being, which I would not leave out, Daniel. 

" Of modern types, I would not hesitate at such men as 
Jeremy Taylor, whom I am glad you admire, George Her- 
bert, and Butler ; all these illustrate, in their degree, my 
idea. You observe in them all the true thing, greatness, as 
God made greatness, that which is real. The position they 
occupied in their lifetime is a matter of no consequence ; 
thousands who rejoice in their light, know nothing of what 
sort of a setting the jewel had. The Jews somehow denied 
to Daniel and David — whether wisely or unwisely, I know 
not — the same equal confidence they gave to the other 
prophets, because they resided at court, and so far lacked 
one sign of the true prophet. We have riches in Jeremy 
Taylor; what we have lost by his being at court we cannot 
tell. Butler was great before he was Bishop, and his light 
shines down across the years, not from his Episcopate, but 
from his obscurity. 

"No man can have so much real being that he will have 
too much even for the obscurest place upon earth. The 
one painful element to me in the life of Robert Burns is, 
that he did not know how great he was in himself, and how 
much greater he might have been than he was. He ever- 
more wanted to sacrifice his genius by putting over it, place, 



268 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

the mere seeming to be. That element in Burns, in my 
opinion, will explain the habits into which he subsequently 
fell. To no other condition on earth than his were many 
of his poems possible, and those, to me, among the richest 
and most touching in human language. The one thing is 
the real being. Its best sphere is where it best exists. Men 
often place the bushel over their light, when they think they 
are placing their light on a candlestick. low turn the pic- 
ture over, and you get more directly at my idea, or at the im- 
pulse which actuates me ; though I can only indicate it, not 
express it. I am ashamed of myself, for fear even you 
should think me selfish, critical, or righteous over-much. 
Look at position ; or, first, look at genuine greatness. Posi- 
tion, money, earthly reward of any sort or degree cannot be 
predicated of it — cannot be placed in comparison with it. 
What is the value of Paradise Lost? Would you make 
Luther a bishop? Give Milton an estate, and put a mitre 
on the Keformation, and how they dwindle down! Put 
Carlyle and Brougham into the English peerage, and all 
generations suffer loss ! What great places to-day are filled 
by great men ? Grant would have gone down through all 
time a greater man if he had refused to go to the White 
House. 

" It ma} 7 seem a very immoral thing for me to say, but I 
could more easily forgive Webster for his failings, than for 
hankering after the presidency. So seeking place, position, 
honor, reward, is the cause of untold evils, and dreadful 
long-lived calamities. It keeps us back from honor, peace,, 
love ; all that the Gospel promises. It delays the millenium. 
It is the emphatic thing against which Jesus Christ guarded 
his people. He did it because it is antagonistic to the 
true kingdom; nowhere is it worse or more fatal than in 
the church, and will you excuse me if I say it? — my 
experience and observation teach me — and I endeavor not 
to look with cynical or uncharitable eyes — that our pulpits 
are too often filled with mockery and make believe, with 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 269 

self-importance, with pride and impotency. I declare to 
you, I sometimes shed tears to see the church of God treated 
as she is. ' It pitieth one to see her in the dust.' Our large 
parishes are with few exceptions only places where wealth 
is congregated, where truth is not known, where fat livings 
are provided for fat men. You might blot out hundreds 
of them, and nine days afterwards the world would not 
know they ever existed. And the race after such men at 
this moment is prodigious, frightful ; so much so, I truly 
believe he serves God best who renounces them. Does this 
seem to you unchristian ? I do not so mean it, and whether 
so or not it helps to explain my ideas, or notions, or whatever 
they might be called. 

" I have been trying and am still trying to get a wise 
definition for salvation, and I cannot see how a man is saved 
until he is in love with that which is heavenly, and values 
unselfishness for its own intrinsic beauty. I think we have 
not entered upon heavenliness. The spirit of the church 
to-day is the spirit of the mother of Zebedee's children. 
The kingdom that we conceive, is no real kingdom at all ; 
the true salvation is only in the baptism that Christ was 
baptised with. The church is at present very earnestly 
discussing regeneration. I think it would be hard to prove 
that any of us have even a remote conception of what it is. 
Our great churches are not homes of the truth, often just 
the reverse, the places whence thought and truth are ban- 
ished, where respectability is worshipped, where a few women 
and fastidious girls dictate the preaching. It must of neces- 
sity be so, as they pay their money, they must also have 
their choice. Now here comes the point of your view of 
the thing, ' if you see these things in the church, then 
you are the very man to go there,' ' to let your light shine,' 
4 to break down the idols,' ' to proclaim the truth.' The 
Sahara is a great desert, so the geographies say ; it needs 
palm trees. Put there all the richest palm trees you can find. 



270 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

Do you change the desert ? What becomes of the palm 
trees ? ' Not a parallel,' you say, not exactly ; but the 
question with me is, whether he who would be a man of 
God in a high degree, can possibly be so, in many of these 
parishes ; I know- not a mau in such position whom I would 
take to be my spiritual guide. The very conditions make 
the thing impossible. The social requirements, the multi- 
plied ' church works,' or parish machinery, divide the time, 
dissipate the thought, starve the soul — that which is artifi- 
cial eclipses that which is real, the soul goes up before God 
lean and palsied. 

" Now, you say again, 'it is selfish to retreat.' It would 
be so if I gave up the work altogether, and gave over the 
struggle, and retired to a monastery, or went off at my ease; 
but I do not propose that at all, nor do I know what I shall 
do, except that I shall try to be guided by God; but I feel 
that I want some place where I shall not be enslaved, wmere 
I can have time to think and build myself and others up in 
things divine. I have a feeling, reasonable or unreasonable 
I know not, which cries out all the time, as Jeremiah did 
when he longed for a lodge in some vast wilderness. I do 
not cry for that exactly, for I think he asked that out of his 
weakness, not out of his strength ; but I desire something 
that is not full of danger and spiritual privation to me, 
and which gives full opportunity for doing something for 
others. 

"Then comes the trouble again — bread for the family; 
well, God the father above, he knows, he will direct and 
provide. Only, if possible, whatever my action might be, 
get hold of my motive-forces, and in the meantime let us 
amid a perverse generation hold fast to that which is good, 
and let us walk very humbly, that we mistake it not; and 
let us pray to be kept from the evil, and to know the true 
God and Jesus Christ whom He hath sent. God grant 
that, have what we may, w T e lose not the true riches. 



LETTEKS TO THE EDITOR. 271 

" Germantown, August 4, 1869. 
"I was struck last Sunday with the epistle for the day. 
There is much more in that Scripture than we are in the 
habit, practically, of recognizing. All have not the same 
gifts. All have some. The Spirit divideth to every man 
respectively as He will, not as we think He ought to, but 
as He knows to be best. Not one of us can see all truth, 
or any one truth in every particular. Any truth is only a 
thread in a net; it stands not alone, but has its relations 
and combinations. One sees it in one relation and another 
in another. We differ from each other only as our view of 
these relations is wide and clear. He has most truth whose 
view is widest and clearest, and even his is still partial. 
Now, not only does our usefulness vary according to the 
views we take, but our experiences also, so that it is liter- 
ally true that every man reaps as he sows. Whatever ex- 
periences, therefore, a man meets with in life he should 
account for as much from elements in himself as in the 
persons with whom he comes in contact. It is for him, 
then, to define all experience and see whether it is worth 
the cost; in other words, whether his course is wise. Now r 
all my ideas of truth, from long habit, combine or concen- 
trate toward the one form and life of the man Christ Jesus. 
Perhaps, in a certain sense, every Christian would say the 
same thing. To be more explicit, then, I might say the 
experiences of Christ are my idea of what Christians should 
be. To change it a little : the experiences of Christ were 
the natural, necessary resultants of wisdom in a world un- 
wise. To change it a little again: we are wise as our 
experiences are like His. It is for us to determine whether 
for the wisdom we will pay the cost. The actual payment 
of the cost is the only reliable evidence that we have the 
wisdom. Now, in the life of the man Christ Jesus, one 
feature pre-eminently strikes me as the key to all the rest,, 
and that is His unselfishness. If you will examine you will 
perceive one fact: He let men do as they pleased toward 



272 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

Him without complaint. As a sheep before the shearers is 
dumb, so He opened not His mouth. It was prophesied of 
Him that He should not cry in the street. It is recorded 
of Him, 'when He was reviled, He reviled not again.' I 
contend, then, that the proper practice for every Christian, 
especially every Christian minister, is never to think of him- 
rself as connected with the treatment he receives from the 
world, but only as to what sort of action is becoming under 
the principles and instincts by which he is, or ought to be, 
governed. I think if the Church would do this the world 
would itself see it is a wretched, mean world, and would 
repent in sackcloth and ashes. 

" Judas saw he had betrayed innocent blood, and the 
thought of it made existence to him impossible, made life 
intolerable. The Jew^s saw it, when Christ was offered, and 
it broke their hearts: Hence Pentecost; and we Chris- 
tians — by not knowing how it is that God works by 
means — refer to miraculous action altogether, what, if we 
only had the vision, could be accounted for by regular law. 
The Saviour, I think, literally meant, ' When thou art smit- 
ten on the one cheek, turn the other.' I think if we could 
literally carry out all this, the world would be better, the 
church would gain, and none of us would be treated as 
badly as we are. Now, you will not understand me to say, 
I do all this or come anywhere near to it. How hard it is 
to do, nobody knows better than he who tries to do it, or 
how far from it he is, none knows so well as he who tries 
to approximate it. I only mean, I try to make it my rule 
of life. On the other hand, there are certain contingencies 
of life, certain duties we owe to those dependent on us, cer- 
tain positions and actions, not only customary, but highly 
esteemed among men, at which, perhaps, we all rightly 
look. Although I cannot help thinking no generous soul 
will ever claim anything not instinctively given, still we 
have claims which should, possibly for our own good, be 
presented, and which being presented, rouse us to a sense 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 273 

of our duty, and lead us to do ourselves justice, in the exer- 
cise of generosity and other virtues, a retrospective view 
of which affords us pleasure and high satisfaction ; and for 
that reason, they who call our attention to it are wise, and 
to us are benefactors. JSTow, why do I mention all this ? 
Simply because you appear to me to blame the St. John's 
people for my experiences among them. I do not blame 
them, I do not wish you to blame them. If there was any 
fault anywhere it was the resultant of my action at least 
as much as their own. I received there, as I have every- 
where (as I am constantly telling my wife) not only all but 
more than we deserved. So conscious am I of this, I would 
not take a world for the two years I spent in Georgetown. 
I think they will send happy pulsations through all my 
hereafter. I never look within my memories, I never hear 
from you, but I think of it. No ; they treated me very 
well. If they treat somebody else better, who ought to re- 
joice over it more than I ? If my experiences are happy, 
then surely I ought to know how sweet they are, and there- 
fore rejoice with those who have them, as, thank God, I do. 
I found out too late, that my people gave me all I wanted — 
their love and esteem. Mr. Blank has been brought up dif- 
ferently, and if they give him, in addition to what they gave 
me, a thousand or two of dollars, then it is because he, by 
the laws I have mentioned, merits that much more, and be- 
cause he gets the one part more, is no reason why he should 
not have the other part as much, and even mine also. He 
has gifts by which God wishes you all to profit, and God 
has sent him among you, to do for you what I could not do. 
He will build up a church such as I could not have built. 
Receive him, listen to him, profit by him ; remembering, 
that after all, we are none of us more than earthen vessels — 
all poor, all deficient — and that God and his angels look in 
pity upon all. The more I think of it, the more I think St. 
John's has been in a very hi^h decree fortunate to °;et him. 
I am delighted he had just the reception they gave him. 
18 



274 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

And now my prayer is, that by all he does, or fails to do r 
you may be built up in nobleness and holiness, in victory 
over self, and over all that is unheavenly; and be like the 
Great Master. May all work together for your good. If I 
envy him at all, it is in the charge he has ; but God knew 
that he could guide you to heaven better than I, and so sent 
him. That you may get to heaven, and the highest possible 
heaven, is all our Father wants. That is my prayer for you 
all. 

" Communing with our Father is one of the last things 
we learn as God wants us to learn it, and yet it is one of 
the things we are constantly hearing about; in all we hear 
our minds are carried away to the manner of communing, 
rather than to the communion itself. We get the idea of 
prayers we are to make, rather than of the sweet, far reach- 
ing, peaceful yearnings we are to let God perceive; which 
we are to define as much as we can, and enjoy ; but which,, 
at last, one can never express. God comes to us often and 
whispers to us, and we know not it is God. Silent, holy r 
happy thoughts break over us, and we repel them, because 
we are not on our knees. We wonder, out of wrong edu- 
cation, why they do not come while we are on our knees; 
and so these experiences become the exception of our lives,, 
when they ought to be the rule. 

" February 28, 1870. 
" I received a letter the other day which surprised me r 
the first, I think, I ever received from a clergyman, asking- 
about my health — except when the man wanted to know 
whether I was able to preach for him, or something of that 
sort. In this case the gentleman was almost a stranger to 
me, and his respect and sympathy prompted the inquiry. The 
world moves ; let us be thankful. I am trusting from day 
to day in that providence I have so long sought to follow. 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 275 

" Bridgeport, Pa., July 16, 1870. 

" The week has not been an unpleasant one to me, though 
I have felt much like a fish out of water. I have had to 
meet many strangers, and that, too, under very trying con- 
ditions, such as where they are using their best endeavors to 
find you out, and you are all in a fog, wondering who they are. 
Still, I must say, everything turns out much better than I 
had expected. Last evening I spent one of the pleasantest 
evenings away out in the country here, at the remotest end 
of my parish, that I have for a long time. 

" The immediate outside of the parsonage is the worst 
feature I have so far seen, but after awhile a little care and 
industry will bring that all right; the house itself is all I 
can desire. 

" I think I am feeling better already, I sleep soundly all 
night, and I have little of that depressed, worried feeling. 
Everybody here goes to bed early, and all tea-drinkings sub- 
side about ten, at the least. 

" October 25, 1870. 
" I send you an article I have cut out of the ' Christian 
Union,' that shows you the way Few Yorkers talk about 
ministers. They own them — body, soul and estate. They 
bring them out on Sunday morning and put them through 
their paces. Beautiful sight ! I am not able to express my 
convictions in this matter so as really to define them to 
another, but I feel I am right. You are very complimen- 
tary to my preaching, but you do not reflect that I am hardly 
half a man, and how near I came, last spring, being no man 
at all. If I could do a man's work the case would be differ- 
ent, but I cannot. Nobody knows in what ' weariness and 
painfulness ' I used to do my work, or rather half do it ; 
being able to do but the work of half a man, I cannot see 
what right I have to the wages of a whole one. I appreci- 
ate the force of the argument relative to those dependent 
upon me, and glad would I be were their support tenfold 



276 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

what it is. But 4 it is written, the disciple shall not be above 
his Lord,' and neither of us went out with any reference 
whatever to support, big or small. We have always had — I 
will not say more than we deserved — but more than we have 
been careful to be truly thankful for. My being with my 
family alive, I look upon as a great blessing in itself. I 
have not a friend who has yet said ' I am thankful you are 
able to be at Bridgeport;' but then I have no friend who 
knows anything of what I suffered before I came here, and 
how great a blessing it is to have those sufferings removed. 
I see the reply, that I can be as well off in New York as 
here. Let nobody imagine it. No man in New York with- 
out a fortune can live as comfortably without extreme labor. 
He must either do a work of true worth, or he must play 
work, itself the hardest kind of work ; but still a work of 
which immense amounts are done in New York, and not a 
little of it in and by the ministry. The sham work I can- 
not do, and the real would soon render another change for 
me a necessity. There are many people residing in that 
New York parish now, and though the church is small, the 
congregation can grow, and it would not be long before I 
would observe much work that ought to be done. Here I 
can do all the work there is; I cannot have a week-day 
lecture even if I wanted to have one ; I can have but one 
sermon and service on Sunday ; I have a very good congre- 
gation to hear the one sermon, and I feel I am accomplishing 
some little good. I can really rest on Sunday afternoon and 
not feel anxious and worried through the week. Then I 
have time to spend with -my family, no slight blessing in 
itself. We have a house as comfortable as that of any 
minister in the United States, and if we have to economise 
somewhat, how thankfully should we do it, at least for a 
year or two. 

" December 28, 1870. 
" As the shades of the year deepen around me my heart 
is glad when I think of all the mercies that have followed 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 277 

me. My own health is so much better. With all my 
troubles I am not afflicted as I was. As I have said to 
you, the worst of all afflictions is to be deprived of that 
power by which we bear afflictions. Whatever they are I 
can look at them calmly and take them manfully. This is 
so great a blessing in itself that my heart goes out in much 
thanksgiving to God. But I have many mercies to be 
thankful for. Friends have clung to me through the year; 
my children are well and happy; we have a comfortable 
home, all together ; so my heart sings praises and my soul 
goes out in prayer to God to make me worthier of the 
blessings 1 have. 

" Bridgeport, February 15, 1871. 

"Yesterday, upon reading the 'Christian Union,' I con- 
cluded it was hardly worth while to do anything to try to 
mend our poor world. Its ailments are chronic. There is 
no end to humbug and selfishness, and I am inclining more 
and more to the idea that the greatest benefactor now-a- 
days is the man who keeps very still, minds his own affairs, 
and who endeavors to have very few affairs to mind. The 
more we do to live, the less life we have. The wheel of 
civilization turns round the human heart, and with all the 
paint and din and dust, there is not oil enough to keep it 
from creaking and groaning. If things go on at this rate, 
this old heart will break before long, and something will 
fall. The magazines themselves are run for money, and 
the churches benefit the architects and upholsterers. That 
picture of a cabin in Canada has been in my mind ever 
since I read your letter. Happy people, who w T ere born 
before civilization, when men were philosophers and poets. 
I don't wonder we have to go back to the past, to Moses 
and Homer, to feel inspiration. So far from our having 
subdued the world, I think the world has subdued us. 

"This day is beautiful; the sun shines, the yard is full of 
birds, blue-birds and snow-birds, and they twitter and sing 



278 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

as if Spring were near. They make my heart feel glad 
this morning, as they have many a day this winter, for 
they have been here every day and we have fed them, and 
I have been thankful I was out here where I had them to 
tell me God takes care of sparrows — to tell me there is a 
God — and often to lift my heart up in sweet communion 
which filled me with peace. 

"March 8, 1871. 
" I have been reading Wordsworth, and Coleridge, too, a 
little of late. I like Coleridge the best. It is very refresh- 
ing to find that other people have experiences just like ours. 
If we were like Crusoe, a prisoner, we might get startled at 
a footprint in the sand, but being on a journey, a pilgrim, 
seeking the safe and narrow road, a footprint ahead of ours 
is full of encouragement, especially when there is reason to 
believe they are the footprints of the wise and brave. We 
ought not to laugh at the old saying that ' misery loves com- 
pany.' There is too much truth in it to treat it lightly. 
Your letter was a great comfort to me. I have of late been 
4 blue,' sometimes almost despairing. I am so still. Shut 
up here in 'the Eddy,' I some how seem to have missed the 
great aim and purpose of my life; or, rather, the aim and 
purpose of my life seem so out of tune with the din and 
dust that we call life. I wonder sometimes whether I have 
not made a mistake and picked up a penny whistle for an 
angel's trumpet; whether I am not only another performer 
in the great ' Kalathumpian ' that is going on around us. 
The make-believe, and ignorance, and thoughtlessness, and 
cant that is in the Church ; the millions that are put into 
stone and paint; the big offices and big officers and high- 
sounding titles, compared with the poverty that prevails ; 
the difficulty we all experience in living; the inability to 
help the widow or to educate the orphan; the condition of 
our factory girls and boys and the vice in our streets; the 
unrest and unlove that are everywhere; the helplessness of 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 279 

one man, and the certainty that when you drop away all 
the world can furnish no helper for those near and dear to 
you — all this depresses me. We say, < trust in God.' That 
is what staggers me. Faith in God, faith, in goodness, 
seems almost dead. The divine graces and virtues that 
were in Christ, and which ought to characterize Christians, 
have passed into mere sentiment, and it requires a great 
deal of faith to hold on and work on, to hope, endure, and 
be patient. 

" September 27, 1871. 
" I am more than ever interested in Japan and the Jap- 
anese. I have often thought there was much that was good 
below that olive skin and thoughtful countenance. Where 
did your ' chief learn the English language so as to speak 
it fluently and read it understanding^ ? These men may 
do us much good by candidly and considerately criticising 
our civilization. That fellow who signs his name ' Pagan,' 
must be an original. Indeed, I know these men have a 
keen eye with respect to our follies. I read, not long ago, 
a very sensible thing from one of these people, taken from 
an oration he delivered as a student at one of our New 
England schools. He said, he was very anxious, or would 
be very glad, if the Gospel could go into Japan without any 
of our churches. Think of all that implies, and of the 
keen discrimination that underlies it. He said, this wish 
had been begotten by reading the History of Modern 
Europe, and by his observations in this country. I was 
reminded of this man, and of the man of whom you speak, 
by a little incident that came under my observation last 
week. I was in Philadelphia, and at the Episcopal rooms 
in Walnut street ; as I entered the hall I saw two gentlemen 
standing in conversation. One of them I knew, the other 
I have seen at times, but do not know his name. The one 
I knew has, within six months or so, been made a D. D. ; 
he is what I call a stuffed man, a man I never see without 



280 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

thinking of the frog who swelled up to become an ox. I 
paused to speak to this august personage, and the other 
gentleman slipped up stairs — saying as he went, ' Mr. 
Blank, I will be back in a moment.' In half a moment he 
came back to make a formal apology for not calling his 
reverence Doctor, a thing which greatly tickled the D. D., 
though he remarked, i we do not stand upon trifles. 5 The 
whole thing was so studied upon the part of the tin doc- 
tored man, and so enjoyable to the Doctor himself, that I 
was thrown into a line of reflection similar to that suggested 
by your letter; the toadying and meanness on the one side, 
the feathers and bubbles on the other. 

" January 10, 1872. 

^t ^ %. $z $z $z 

" You see what a work you have been doing. If it had 
not been for you those sermons would never have seen the 
light, and now on rainy Sundays, and to people prevented 
from going to church, you are still preaching. As time 
boils them down, I hope there will remain at last one true, 
good thought worth keeping. I saw, a long while ago, in 
the Southern Review, an article reviewing these sermons. 
The author of it made me understand that passage of St. 
Paul : ' Some preach Christ willingly, and some of conten- 
tion,' but either way Paul was content, because it all brought 
Christ to the minds of the people ; all he wanted was, that 
the theme should never be hushed. He knew if they could 
only see Christ, they must love Him. This Review jeered 
at an idea in these sermons, which was, that God looked 
upon us as a father rather than as a judge, regarding us as 
unfortunate rather than faulty. I feel that if men can only 
once get that idea, they will love it, and it will make them 
love God, and lift them up to a higher plane of life ; and so 
I thought the Southern Review could not have selected a 
better subject for its criticism. 



letters to the editor. 281 

" January 17, 1872. 

" The truth is, these sectarian squabbles are sorry things. 
The more I see of ministers, some of them, and of church 
organizations, and compare all with the spirit of that Christ 
we profess to worship, the more I am surprised there is any 
church at all. But, I take it, by so much the soul surpasses 
the body. Christ is the soul. These churches are only 
4 bodies, and lame, deceased bodies they are.' One thing 
is certain, time and the world are casting off these ' mortal 
coils.' I am amazed when I contemplate the changes which 
are going on ; in fifty years there will be few churches con- 
stituted as our churches are now ; ministers will not be what 
they are to-day. There will be teachers and pastors, but 
not the settled class we have in our time ; they will be 
better teachers, and have more scholars. For my part I 
feel every day that our present system is artificial, the legacy 
of dead ages, not suited to a live world, and so the sooner 
a change occurs the better. 

" This thing of calling ministers is a dreadful affair. It 
reminds me of old slave times, when they put a darkey on 
a block and made him show his teeth, and hold up his arms, 
and cut up a general performance to show him off 1 to the 
highest bidder. When I think of what we call ' preaching 
the Gospel,' and look at churches, and at ministers, and at 
congregations, and all the things ' behind the scenes,' and 
then think of reality and truth, and eternity !".*-'*■ I 
think of digging clams, or of going at anything that is 
honest, or by which men may live, if it be only in the body ; 
anything to make life a little more like daylight, and a great 
deal less like moonshine. 

" January 23, 1872. 

" These young Japanese manifest a decided talent for 

observation, and their remarks have a sarcastic ring to them 

which might be very salutary to us as a people, if we could 

only get our people to hear them. However, these young 



282 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

fellows, and indeed all their countrymen, need at this moment 
the most delicate instruction. I am afraid the institutions 
to which the young men go may have an injurious effect 
upon them. We know how many of our young men go to 
college, merely to waste time and spend money ; to make 
themselves ridiculous, and to disgrace all civilization. The 
Japanese student, with his eyes wide open, and in real ear- 
nest with himself, sees that, and in the nature of things, he 
has little to counteract his impressions. His people too, 
who come to visit us, see the same features stamped upon 
our society generally. None of them have access to those 
better elements, which lie in a great measure concealed from 
public gaze, and which really constitute our social forces. 
They cannot get into our homes, the homes of the masses 
of our people, and witness the tender influences which are 
there distilled, and which create our power. A child look- 
ing at a locomotive, sees only the brass mountings, and the 
red paint, but they are really no part of the locomotive. 
The steam is invisible to any eye, and, only he who is skilled 
in the art, knows where the real power resides. These peo- 
ple should be guarded against mistakes ; their second thought 
of us, will be better than their first. Besides, let them not 
think that Japan is the only country in the world which is 
undergoing revolution. The whole human race is in motion, 
and at this moment we are casting off many of these very 
evils, of which these people complain, and fifty years from 
now, will witness greater changes in this country than in 
Japan, and all of them for the better. I confess, when I 
look at our churches, with their high offices, when I look 
upon some of our colleges and professors, when I see the 
selfishness and sham that prevail, I feel sometimes sad and 
discouraged ; but when I look further, I see a very persist- 
ent endeavor, a ground-swell of reality undermining this 
whole thing, and determined to sweep it away ; and it will 
be swept away, not all at once, but gradually, and men will 
get up eventually into an atmosphere of purity and truth. 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 283 

''Japan herself, will have to pass through just such pro- 
cesses as we are going through, and happy will that country 
be, if they can profit by our mistakes and follies. We have 
had no footprints ahead of ours. They have ours ahead of 
them. Teach them to take warning, to ' hasten slowly.' By 
and by, they will give laws to other nations, and may it be 
their destiny, in their turn, to give the very best laws this 
poor mortality can in their time receive. 

" I observe that Mori desires to get the distinguishing 
characteristics of the sects, and especially how the sacra- 
ments are administered. I doubt whether you could pos- 
sibly do better in those respects than your article did. 
Even Mori, himself, here upon the spot, and understanding 
•our language, could not possibly receive the various shades 
of thought those subjects involve. Even many of us, born 
in a Christian land — yes, thousands and tens of thousands 
of us — know little or nothing about them ; and to go into 
them further would, in my judgment, mislead the Japanese 
and virtually misrepresent us. I observe, too, what you 
say about his desire 'to have the facts, even if against us.' 
That is a very special point, to give him the facts, and not 
let him take for facts merely appearances, as they strike a 
stranger. As, for example, what Mori deplores, is, I doubt 
not, far more deplored by us — the abusive language in our 
legislative halls and newspapers. But what is the fact 
there ? Simply the fact of an abused privilege or right — 
that of free speech. There will be more order and silence 
in a file of soldiers on Wall street, at twelve o'clock, than 
in the busy crowd of men rushing and jostling each other, 
but not necessarily more intelligence, or love, or good of 
any sort. The fact is we are free to do what we please, and 
unfortunately many of us please to do wrong. The fact 
for Mori is, not that we every now and then disgrace our- 
selves, but that with absolutely no restraint, other than self- 
restraint, we do not do it oftener. Then, too, much of the 



284 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

unlove among us is merely apparent. Men seem selfish 
and grasping, and to all intents and purposes are so ; but 
let a city catch fire, and self and greed disappeaar, and ten 
millions of dollars flow in a generous stream towards the 
needy spot. These are facts for Mori to see, to get his peo- 
ple to see ; that men can be trusted to take care of them- 
selves. Let Japan suddenly loose, as we are, or even Eng- 
land, or any country in the world, and Mori would see 
sights he has not seen yet. We find fault with each other, 
and with eveiwthing, but always in the endeavor to make 
things better. There are those who carry the country, but 
unhappily there are those whom the country has to carry. 
We feel it, as I said before, more sadly than Mori. All 
honor to him that he does see it; he is, therefore, the safer 
guide for his people. If we could have had footsteps ahead 
of us we might have been saved many of our experiences. 
If w T e can show Japan how to choose the good, and escape 
the bad, our footprints will not have been made in vain. 
This book of yours will be the best thing, so far, sent to 
Japan ; and if it does not give all the information w T e have 
to give, and especially upon the subject of our religion, it 
gives as much, and perhaps more, than the average Japan- 
ese can receive. If it awake inquiry, as in such a people 
it will, let the future give as the future may demand. 

"December 20, 1872. 
" I received a week ago to-day a letter from an old class- 
mate of mine, one of the noblest fellows that ever walked — ■ 
sixteen years in the ministry — a letter that made my heart 
sick. Poor fellow, he has neither bread nor clothes for 
himself, and his boys. The cold intense, and wife and little 
ones destitute. I wrote to a gentleman in Philadelphia, 
who has a large wealthy church, to help him. He writes 
back for the name, and says, he had twenty-five or thirty 
just such applications last year. Another man, whose 
church represents millions of money, sends thirty dollars, 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 285 

.and wants to know if a box of clothes would be acceptable. 
I tell you, it makes me feel as if the wrath of God would 
come upon us. We raise heaven and earth to get these 
poor fellows into the ministry, and then let them raise 
heaven and earth to take care of themselves. We feed and 
blanket our horses, but our missionaries, being men, are 
inot worth taking care of. I dread to think of the work 
which may be done to-day in inducing inexperienced youth 
to join such a life. 

" York, Pa., September 24, 1873. 
" This is very sad about the Cookes; I could not sleep 
the night I heard of Jay Cooke's failure. I have great 
respect for that man, though he does not know it; he had 
•so many fawning and cringing around him, I could never 
bring myself to express to him my regard for him. Many 
men, and women, too, are going to miss the great strong 
arm he used to stretch out. ' I can only say — may he rise 
again.' 

>K ^ ^ >jc . :fc 

" I was sorry to hear of the death of Mrs. Robert Reed; 
I felt not only a respect, but an affection for her. I have 
often thought ' Of such is the kingdom of heaven,' and my 
heart looks forward, with great confidence and delight, to 
the prospect of meeting her among the blessed. Her 
daughters, of course, very much feel their loss. Yet they 
have much to comfort them. 

" Mt. Holly, X. J., September 27, 1875. 
" That incident you relate of little Ume is truly beautiful, 
and, altogether, inspiring. Happy Japanese, that a little 
child may lead them ! I think time's father must be a very 
sensible man, of large and truly-enlightened views. When 
shall we have any service in many of our own temples 
during the week ? Surely to dedicate those temples to 
human mind, and human heart, is a work on which God's 



286 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

blessing must rest ; I think God is raising Ume up to great 
usefulness for Japan, and her work is already begun. Our 
hearts are all with her, with our best prayers out of our 
best love. 

" Mt. Holly, December 9, 1875. 
" You wonder why I want to go back to Bridgeport. 
You say, accept what is pleasant here ; preach old sermons; 
how like a child you talk ! How can I think of my work 
at all ? How can I visit my people, or do anything ? 
The fact is, that is where the trouble comes in, I am at 
times so forgetful, I cannot do my work. If I had not 
been faithful when I had strength, where would I have 
been to-day ? Bridgeport, or a farm, or shoemaking, some- 
thing will have to come; for, to handle the subjects I have 
to handle, and do my duty in the position I occupy, is im- 
possible. I can do the little work at Bridgeport, and cannot 
do the much work here. My trouble has never arisen from 
any place I have been in, nor from any people ; I have 
been well treated always ; indeed, my wonder is that people 
have treated me as well as they have. 

u Mt. Holly, December 16, 1875. 
" After I wrote, a few days ago, I had about made up my 
mind to abandon all idea of going back to Bridgeport. 
Since that, however, I have been thinking the matter over, 
and I conclude that to go back there is the best thing I can 
do. The only thing that gives me pause is my children ; 
they will be cut off from many advantages and enjoyments, 
and yet, too, they may have the want in some degree sup- 
plied by others, and, in some respects, greater. Whether 
I go back there, or wait here until some desirable place 
opens, is the question I want to ask you to help me to decide. 
There at Bridgeport I could get rest, and I know of no other 
place short of the grave that can give me that; and that I 
must have, or die. 



LETTEES TO THE EDIT0E. 287" 

" Mt. Holly, December 30, 1875. 

" Thank God I am feeling a little better, than I was when 
I last wrote to you ; at that time it seemed impossible to- 
live, and then having to write and visit my people, and carry 
the affairs of a parish too, I felt paralyzed. That accounts 
for the kind of a letter my last to you must have been — I 
felt sorry to write you so much about myself. 

" I shall always appreciate and feel grateful for your 
interest in us. I am thankful for any kindness and friend- 
ship at any time. I often wonder I have any at all — it is 
the kindness and affection of those ' Old Swedes,' that 
makes me feel towards them as I do. 

" Our Christmas has passed away, about as usual. The 
weather was gloomy, but our people were very kind to us, 
made many presents, and the children had their young 
friends with them, and enjoyed the holidays very much. 
When I look at the children and see them so happy, I feel 
I cannot leave Mount Holly, but when I feel forgetful, and 
apprehensive of an utter break-down, and think what they 
would do if I were prostrated by long sickness and wholly 
disabled, I feel for their very sake I ought to seek some 
relief. lam also worried about church matters; the idea 
of merely following a trade, and that, such a trade, almost 
kills me — the mere routine of official duty, I mean ; to do 
things because I have to do them, because they are expected, 
takes all the soul out of me, and to see how things are in 
the church, and the greatest questions and revolutions that 
are coming up, and I not able to do my part, breaks me 
down completely. Every day letters come to me from cler- 
gymen wanting places, full of trouble, life itself a burden, 
asking influence to get called here or called there, all reveal- 
ing a sad state of things, and put with other facts, making 
me feel anything but happy. 

" Mount Holly, Jan. 11, 1876. 

" I have been on the point of writing to you now for some 
time, but I have not been able. I have been unequal to any 



288 OCTAVIUS PEBJNCHIEF. 

and all work, though I have somehow managed to get along. 
The sight of a book or of a pen disgusts me. I have not had 
more than three good nights sleep in three months. You 
may imagine my condition. However, I managed yesterday 
to inform my people here that it would be necessary for me 
to give up. They conclude to see what they can do. A 
number of the vestry have called to see if I would accept 
three months leave of absence ; my salary to be paid three 
months in advance and my family guaranteed against any 
needs during that time. I know the condition of the church 
finances, and did not think they ought to do it. I told them 
a rest of three months would do me very little good, and I 
am certain I was right. If I could rest two or three years, 
I might possibly rally, but that is out of the question ; so I 
do my next best, and go to Bridgeport about Easter. 

"January 11, 1876. 
" It is running in my mind to start a little paper — " Our 
Religious Times," or something like that. It has not as yet 
assumed a very definite form ; I had not thought of under- 
taking it before October or November; I need rest and recu- 
peration. To this end I have been thinking of resting all I 
can through the summer, preaching old sermons, and then to 
begin work in the fall, if I find my health better. My gen- 
eral idea about the paper is this : a sort of small quarto, or 
large octavo, of about 11 x 7, of some eighteen or twenty 
pages. The object will be to give my ideas on general reli- 
gious subjects: One sermon on Sunday; reasons why 'the 
masses 5 are outside the churches; the ministry, its efficiency 
and its ^efficiency; the churches, their mechanical and un- 
christian or worldly constitution, &c, &c. But mainly to 
express my conviction that we must have a Christianity 
nearer to the Actual Christ, not doctrine nor so-called wor- 
ship, but life, or else the civilization we flatter ourselves is 
coming, will not come, &c. Then I wish to give one original 
sermon in each number ; articles to young people ; selec- 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 289 

tions from other papers, poetry, odds and ends, &c. 1 do 
not intend it to be an ambitious sheet, or to cut any nourish, 
but in a very humble way to say what I think God has put 
in me to say. I have not strength to do it in my pulpit as 
I want to do it, because the burden of parish work incapaci- 
tates me. 

" Bridgeport, August 9, 1876. 

" I revive just enough to write a line. I think I can see 
you quietly at home to-day resting after the labors and dan- 
gers and sufferings of the centennial summer. I devoutly 
trust you do not feel as utterly exhausted as I do ; I went 
under on Saturday last; I found myself in a condition of 
perfect collapse; I hardly moved the whole day. That con- 
dition has ran on ever since, and here I am 'gloomy and 
peculiar' but not 'grand.' The fact is, the world looks 
blue, but as nothing lasts forever I look for a change. I 
ought to have gone to Philadelphia with my wife and 
Nellie to-day, to see Mr. and Mrs. Yoshida, bat I had to 
send them off alone. I may be able to get down before 
they leave for Washington, but if I do not, impress upon 
their minds that I am the victim of circumstances. 

" He finished out his visit as generously as he began, and 
followed it through; nothing could have delighted me more 
than to have been in a condition to be generous to him. 
His whole visit was to me a great pleasure, and many of his 
talks a great profit. I cherish the recollection of him and 
of the summer as an event in my life, a happy association 
with the centennial year. The only drawbacks to our hap- 
piness, are our own failures and short-comings, and in over- 
looking these, nobody could have been kinder than you all 
have been. You have all placed us under obligations, and 
as time recedes that will be the view which I am sure will 
remain. 

"November 21, 1876. 

" I have been wretchedly ill every day, since you left our 
house. That day I broke down, and have not rallied since ; 

19 



290 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

my whole digestive system gave way, and I suffer intense 
pain day and night from everything I eat ; meanwhile, at 
every step, I feel a non-descriptive inability to do anything, 
or a very painful disposition to do nothing. 

" November 23, 1876. 
" I have just written to Robert P. Dodge, declining that 
call back to Georgetown. You may know I did it very 
reluctantly ; the call came in so many forms, and so 
earnestly, from such friends as that good man Yarnall 
(who works too hard) and Rittenhouse and Marbury. 
H. D. Cooke wrote me a very kind and brotherly letter, 
but I see no way to do otherwise. I cannot leave here so 
suddenly, and between now and spring is an interval of 
three or four months. Then beside, I could no more furnish 
that parsonage than I could furnish the ' White House ; ? 
my furniture here belongs to the parsonage. Then comes 
my health, though that is better than it has been. My 
work here is going on in such a way that I could not break 
it up ; my Bible class would fall through, and the people 
would, in a great measure, lose their winter; and, after 
their great kindness to me, I could not leave them in that, 
way. 

" Bridgeport, January 1, 1877. 
" This is a sort of sacred day, sacred to old friendship, 
to all happy memories and good wishes. Among the very 
first I turn my thoughts to you; sometimes amid my trou- 
bles, and the gloom incident to a natural despondency, I 
wonder whether I have a friend in the world. I recall with 
great thankfulness the fact that I never hear from you 
without having my spirits uplifted, and experiencing an 
evidence that a true friend is an unspeakable blessing. You 
must not imagine I am reflecting at all upon mankind, or 
this world, in any way; such is not my mood to-day. No- 
body knows better than I do, that, as a rule, every man has 



LETTERS TO THE EDITOR. 291 

all the friends he deserves. I do not feel to-day that I par- 
ticularly deserve any at all; that enhances the more the 
friendships that do cling to me, and makes my thankfulness, 
therefore my happiness, the greater. I trust in your little 
household to-day the cup of happiness is full ; I have no 
doubt it is ; even to think so, adds a drop of sweetness to 
my own. I come to assure you of my prayers that through 
this whole year, and for many another yet to come, God 
will keep that cup of yours as full as it is to-day, adding 
each year a richer flavor to all its fullness. 

u In thinking over life this morning, I conclude, as I 
have often done before, that we are paying too much for it, 
such as it is, paying out life itself in uurest and w T orry. I 
think it must be that God wants us to enjoy life more than 
most of us do ; wants us to be conscious of more happiness ; 
not to want so much, and to be all the time going and doing, 
but actually to possess more, in possessing ourselves, and 
all the elements that ought to make us better and wiser. I 
do not think we are half contented enough. The world is 
cheating us fearfully, and dragging us at its heels. All its 
fuss is a thing of big promise and little pay ; for my own 
part, I have been praying that God would make me want 
ess, and be more thankful for what I have. 

" Bridgeport, February 6, 1877. 

"I am glad tne spirit moved you that Sunday night to 
write me that letter. If you had preached a thousand ser- 
mons you could not have done as much good. I laughed 
over it and thought about it, but finally its very cheerful- 
ness made me happy. 

"You say so many of your clerical friends are despondent, 
and ask how it is. Well, it would take more than a five- 
hour talk to tell you. If you could realize the thousand 
and one formalities through which they have to go, or their 
condition of semi-dependence, their vision of the woes and 
evils prevailing, and, not least of all, the condition of the 



292 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

Church herself, and at last how helpless they are them- 
selves, then you would not wonder. It is the very earnest- 
ness and sincerity of these men you name which drives 
them to despair. If they were sticks, or like the figures 
in Mrs. Jarley's wax-works, they could stand it; but to 
be a man among such figures — 'there's the rub.' In one 
respect we are like Louis XV. We feel that society, or that 
phase of it with which we are identified, is growing old, 
though we cannot feel about it as he did, that it will last 
our time, and be content to let the evil day fall upon the 
head of others. Yet, with all this, I doubt not if you were 
to rally these despondent friends of yours, you would find 
them in many respects the most hopeful men alive. The 
prophets who most observe the darkness of their times are 
clearest in their vision and promises of 'the good time 
coming. 5 " 



LETTERS TO JOHN S. REESE. 



In this chapter it is proposed to submit a portion of Mr. 
PerinchieP s correspondence with his friend, Mr. John S. 
Reese, of Baltimore. Their acquaintance began when the 
former became rector of Memorial Church, in that city, 
where the latter was a leading merchant, and also an in- 
fluential member of the aforesaid church. They soon be- 
came devoted friends, and their friendship was founded 
upon a mutual interest in matters intellectual and religious ; 
and as they were attached to each other while living, there 
is something touching in the fact that there was only an 
interval of a few months between the dates of their depart- 
ure for that happier world, which they both hoped to attain 
through their blessed Redeemer. As Mr. Perinchief wrote 
to his friend : " We must not be parted in this life, for I trust 
and believe we shall be together forever in the life that is 
to come. We must have as many memories in common as 
possible, and as much as can be, a joint reward." The 
letters addressed to Mr. Reese were numerous, but many of 
them were of a character too personal and local to be printed 
in this place. Before quoting the extracts, however, which 
have been selected for this chapter, it should be stated that 
it was through the influence and liberality of Mr. Reese 
that the second series of Mr. Perinchief 's sermons was pub- 
lished, and the two following letters will explain how the 
volume came into existence : 

"Baltimore June 15, 1870. 
" My Dear Sir : It is known to you that the Rev. Oc- 
tavius Perinchief became rector of ' Memorial Church' last 



294 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

autumn. When he accepted the call it was believed his 
health was permanently restored ; but a few months of 
ardent devotion to his duties developed too plainly the un- 
welcome truth that he was physically unequal to the work 
involved in his charge. The congregation which, under his 
brief ministry, had largely increased, would gladly have 
made any sacrifice to retain him under an arrangement by 
which his preaching might alone have been enjoyed. But 
his sense of duty precluded the consummation of any such 
arrangement. Hence a separation became an inevitable 
result. 

" Only those who have enjoyed his ministry can realize 
the loss sustained by the separation. Realizing this, there 
exists on the part of our congregation an earnest desire to 
possess, in permanent form, the treasures of thought and 
feeling which distinguished his pulpit discourses. 

" Knowing your intimate relations with Mr. Perinchief 
as a literary friend, and the fact that you edited a volume of 
sermons, delivered in Georgetown, D. C, it has occurred to 
me to solicit your aid in obtaining his consent to the publi- 
cation of his Baltimore sermons. By doing this you will 
not only gratify a large number of his friends and admirers, 
but confer a lasting benefit upon all into whose hands they 
may chance to fall. I venture to hope my suggestion may 
have your favorable consideration, 

" Your obt. servant, 

" John S. Reese. 

" Charles Lanman, &c." 

" Georgetown, D. C, June 25, 1870. 
" My Dear Sir : I duly received your letter, and rejoice to 
inform you that I have corresponded with Mr. Perinchief, 
and he consents to the publication of another volume of his 
sermons. He has placed a collection in my hands, and a 
portion will at once be given to the printer. As was the 
case when I looked over the Georgetown sermons, it has 



LETTERS TO JOHN S. REESE. 295 

puzzled me to select, where all were so full of soul-saving 
wisdom, but I have rather given preference to the more 
practical productions. As I recollect, the effect of his 
preaching, founded alone upon the life and death of our 
Redeemer, in the several parishes where he has labored, I 
can only the more deeply regret that under a wise Provi- 
dence he could not have been blessed with an ample store 
of physical health. 

"Injustice to Mr. Perinchief, I ought to add that he will 
not be able to revise the sermons, nor examine the proofs, 
on account of his removal to the country parish of Bridge- 
port, on the river Schuylkill, so that the responsibility of 
seeing them correctly printed will necessarily rest with me. 
But I shall do my best. I congratulate the good people of 
Memorial Church on the prospect of having a new volume 
of his sermons, and I can assure you that their great kind- 
ness to Mr. Perinchief has taken a very firm hold upon his 
heart. 

" With high regard, yours, very truly, 

" Charles Lanman. 
"John S. Reese, Esq., 

"Baltimore, Maryland." 

The volume in question was published by Appleton & 
Co., and was received by the thinking public with quite as 
much enthusiasm as the first collection published by Wil- 
liam Ballantyne. Aside from the sermons published in the 
two volumes here mentioned, there were many printed in 
pamphlet form, the whole of which attracted marked atten- 
tion. We now turn to the extracts which we are permitted 
to publish from the private letters addressed to Mr. Reese : 

" Bridgeport, July 16, 1870. 
" I have had very little opportunity this week for writing. 
The kindness of the people here has kept me upon a con- 
stant visiting. I am realizing just the thing I like, friendly 



296 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

and frequent intercourse with my people. I go out and take 
tea with thenf and find things very pleasant indeed. I have 
found two persons to whom I can fully talk. You know 
what I mean ; two of those people who like to go into things. 
I have no doubt I shall find more. This place improves 
upon acquaintance. I like the young people so far very 
much, and that gives me a hopeful prospect. In my health 
I think I am beginning to feel better. I sleep very soundly 
at night and feel very little of that depressed and worried 
condition I was in, when in Baltimore. * * * I have 
not yet got into the parsonage, and do not expect to do so 
for six weeks, possibly. Yet I am resting and beginning to 
realize my position. As 1 do so, I become more mindful of 
the providences which attended me in Baltimore, and more 
truly thankful for the affection and esteem with which some 
of my people, especially yourself, regarded me. With all 
my heart I reciprocate every sentiment of your last letter.. 

"Bridgeport, September 6, 1870. 
***** 

" My heart is now, and has been of late, much with you 

and the Memorial people. I think of you all gathering 

back from your summer rambles ; I would like much to be 

able to be your leader still. I am comforted in the thought 

that your choice has fallen upon a good man, and God has 

better things in store for you than I could convey. 
* * * * * 

" I have a quiet horse, and in driving about these hills I 
experience great benefit physically. My health is certainly 
much improved ; I sleep well and eat well, and feel consid- 
erable elasticity in my system generally. The rides about 
here are some of them very fiue indeed. The views from 
our windows are all of them good. We have had already 
two exquisite sunsets, and many that ranged high into the 
beautiful. You must certainly come here and help us to» 
enjoy everything. 



letters to john s. reese. 297 

" October 21, 1870. 

" It is now getting late, but I must drop you a line to let 
you know I have this evening received the book you sent, 
and to thank you with all my heart for it. It is most beau- 
tifully and solidly gotten up, but what I value most are those 
few lines upon the back of the photograph. I can give the 
book to my best child as an evidence that her father did not 
live altogether in vain. * * * * 

"I congratulate you and your good wife and dear children 
upon getting into your new house. It must be an hour of 
transcendent happiness to a man when he can gather his 
family into a habitation he can call his and theirs — such a 
habitation as not only meets their wants, but gratifies their 
taste, and is in every way expressive of his care and affec- 
tion for them. Few things move my heart so much as such 
a sight. I often, in passing the street, stop and ask God's 
blessing upon new houses, and thank Him for that mercy 
which, in case the father is removed, leaves wife and little 
ones a resting place of their own. 

"With all these outer blessings, and by means of them in 
their degree, may God add to you the blessing of grateful, 
wise and useful children. For myself, I suppose I never 
shall own a home short of my 'long home.' All my expecta- 
tions in coming here have been realized. My health is per- 
fect compared with what it was; I do not now suffer at all 
from my old difficulty; my sleep is regular and sweet. I 
think I am doing a little good here, too, and feel perfectly 
contented. 

" October 26, 1870. 

" You are soon off again for a long absence from home 
which you so dislike. I sympathize with you. I had much 
experience of that sort when I was travelling about for that 
society. However, perhaps an occasional bitter makes the 
sweet all the sweeter. At any rate one feels good in getting 
home again. I hope you will be successful, and that your 
trip will be as pleasant as such a trip can be. 



298 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" You say you are taking the ' Plymouth Pulpit.' I have 
been taking it for some time, together with the ' Christian 
Union,' which 1 consider a very good paper, though some- 
what unequal — I mean one number as compared with 
another — still I think the worst numbers are better than 
any other religious paper I know of. Beecher's sermons 
are also very unequal. Now and then we get one of very 
-extraordinary merit. I think he has too many irons in the 
fire, and that he would bless mankind more if he would 
consolidate his energies. 

"May 5, 1871. 
"I think sometimes the work of the ministry must be 
nearly done. There are, it is said, 60,000 of us in the 
United States, yet it is hard to put your hand upon one 
when you want him. Of the 60,000, 10,000 possibly, are 
useful in leading and producing thought, and really doing 
people good. The balance are filling places and keeping 
old machinery in use. Of the 10,000 useful ones, possibly 
1,000 are happy in circumstances under which they can do 
their work manfully and independently — comfortable in the 
thought that they are useful. The balance are doing their 
-duty, as they understand it, fearlessly, but under the convic- 
tion that something is out of joint. I see that last year in 
our own church — this conservative Episcopal Church — more 
than one-third of our clergy changed their parishes. That 
is very remarkable, though not at all strange. Another 
third will change this year, and of these and of all the rest 
a very large proportion would only be too glad still to 
change. The system of pew rentals, the extravagant church 
buildings, the revolutions in thought, the dixit of persons 
who never think, are producing effects. Few men start in 
life more truly in earnest than the clergy; none get the 
backbone taken out of them sooner or so effectually. Little 
good, perhaps none whatever, is accomplished to clergy or 
parishes by the frequent changes. Both sides had better 



LETTERS TO JOHN S. REESE. 299 

put up with ills they have, than ny to those they know not 
of. The care on the part of our laity to make all ends meet 
is very great, and it is certainly not less so on the part 
of the clergy, and that some relief must come in some shape. 
Whether the changes that are going on, or the general drift 
of the times is for the better, only God knows; and believ- 
ing as we do in His direction, we may hope that it is so. 
His will be done. I do trust He will send you somebody 
there at Memorial to build you all up in divine things, to lead 
you so through this world that you shall certainly not fail 
.to enter by and by upon a better. How we need it ! " 

" September 27, 1871. 
" I have been reading the book you sent me, Bushnell's 
■' Vicarious Sacrifice.' I am glad I did not read it sooner. I 
am very glad I have it now to read. When you know the 
old-time teaching upon that subject, and especially the Cal- 
vinistic teaching, you may know something of the instruc- 
tion I received in my earlier manhood. But you never can 
know the hours of patient study I have given to that subject. 
After reaching the conclusion, by careful thought, that the 
old-time teaching was not true, I reached Bushnell's conclu- 
sions, some two or three years ago, yes, five years ago, and 
very much through such a line of thought as that which he 
pursues. As is the case with any truth when once we reach 
it, its very simplicity makes it strange we should ever have 
believed anything else. How much the world owes to such 
men as Bushnell ! He has had to endure three inquisitorial 
trials before he could stand out as the author of this book. 
Happy man, in having the moral grit and physical force to 
>stand up and do successful battle. 

" June 18, 1872. 
" You may talk as you like about preachers, but the fact 
is congregations and occasions make sermons. Christ spoke 
some very profound things to an ignorant woman by the well 



300 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

side, but it was Jacob's well. He sat by, and the inspiration- 
of a thousand years and more flowed into that hour. It is 
very hard work to 'rightly divide the word.' In one sense, 
I am getting to be an annihilationist, as I think the souls of 
some people seem to die, long before death ; for I cannot 
find out that some men have any souls. 

" Mount Holly, September 9, 1874. 

" The bundle of books was received safe and sound. I 
have read that one of Arnold's with very great profit and; 
delight. I had hardly begun it before it seemed to me that 
I had found just the utterance of my own thoughts. And 
as I went on I rejoiced that God had given to a man the 
power to perceive and arrange such thoughts as are therein, 
contained. He is perfectly right. The conflict is not only 
' coming' — it is upon us. Escape it we cannot. The very 
' powers of heaven ' will be once more shaken. Only he 
who has faith will not lose faith. Many are going to lose 
what they have mistaken for faith. God is going to lift us 
up to His promises, when we ' shall be all taught of God.' 
We shall not dwell in the 'letter which killeth,' but in 'the, 
Spirit that giveth life.' 

" My whole soul is full of rejoicing at the prospect before- 
us — the heritage God has for us. The world has often won- 
dered how the Jew could mistake things in the way he did. 
The world will ask hereafter respecting the Christain, only 
with greater wonder, ' How was it that you did not under- 
stand ? ' Thank God for scientists and for all ' the whips of 
small cords' with which the mere money-changers have 
been expelled and the Temple itself purified. You must 
not understand me that I accept every word in the book. 
A man may eat of a feast, but it must be a very small feast 
of which a man may eat the whole. You must not imagine 
that I think Mr. Arnold anything more than human, or that 
in his book we have reached the end. Very far from it- 
He is only a sort of John the Baptist — there cometh others 



LETTERS TO JOHN S. REESE. 301 

; after him mightier than he. My own impression is, that, 
in this same direction, we shall save even more of the very 
letter itself. The souls that could so understand and report 
Jesus did not need to be deceived, or to deceive anybody, 
with respect to ' wonderful works,' but the wonderful works 
were needful to open their eyes and give them the percep- 
tion which enabled them to report. If there was no resur- 
rection, then the apostles are a miracle, and it is no way to 
get rid of a lesser by supposing a greater. This is not say- 
ing the miracles are evidences. It is true, as Arnold says, 
Jesus is his own evidence. He is the supreme miracle. 
His miracles, so called, are the smallest of all His works. 
He thought so Himself when He said to His disciples, 
'greater works than these shall they do.' They are 
wonders not to Him, but only to us. Not contrary to any 
law, but wrought by all law — works perfectly natural, if 
you only once give all the conditions. But let come what 
will, God lives and God is true, and He will give us, all 
that are true, of Himself. * * I doubt if in any one 
dollar you have spent this year you have done more good 
or afforded more pleasure. 1 feel how good it would be if 
I could be young again. I never felt more anxious to have 
part or lot in the great work of building up the kingdom of 
' righteousness.' 

" Bridgeport, June 20, 1876. 
"I write now just to say it affords me great pleasure to 
know you think of coming to see us in August. Any time 
after July, I imagine, will suit us, and if you will only come 
and do as you please, so as all of you can thoroughly enjoy 
the great exhibition, it will make us perfectly happy. As 
you remark, it is a wonderful exhibition. It is all the world 
at our very door. I never go down there without wishing 
that every man, woman, and child in our land could get 
there and benefit by it. Any single department would be 
a great thing in itself, but, all together, it is more than any 



302 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

man could exhaust. Your little place out there is a very- 
pleasant feature in that part of the grounds, and a very 
profitable study is offered in the several classes of plants." 

Referring to the preceding paragraph, it may be stated 
that Mr. Reese's visit to Bridgeport was postponed to Au- 
gust, for the reason that the Japanese Minister, Mr. Yosh- 
ida Kiyonari, as well as the present writer, with their fam- 
ilies, were the guests of Mr. Perinchief during the months 
of June and July. And the allusion to Mr. Reese's partici- 
pation in the exhibition will be understood when it is stated 
that, as an extensive dealer in South American fertilizers,, 
he had a handsome garden and an appropriate building at 
the Centennial Exhibition, where he exhibited a great 
variety of beautiful and rare plants. 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 



[To the Sunday School children of St. George's Mission, New York City,, 
of which school he had charge for two years previous to his ordination.] 

" Quindaro, Kan., December 19, 1857. 

" My Dear Children : When I left you it was my inten- 
tion to write you very soon, for I love you very much, and 
felt very sorry to go away from you. I suppose you think 
I very soon forgot you, but how could I forget you ? I 
used to think of you very often, especially on Sunday 
mornings when I would wake up ; for many Sundays, you, 
were the first thing in my mind ; and when I remembered 
I could not see you, I never forgot to pray for }-ou. Yon 
know I used to tell you that God was everywhere ; and 
though I was in Kansas, I knew you had kind teachers and 
friends to take care of you, and so I was sure God would 
bless you. 

" But you ask me why I have not written to you sooner ? 
Sometimes I was away, off in the backwoods, where I had 
no pen, or ink, or paper; sometimes I was sick, and when 
I could write at all I had so many other things to write,, 
that your turn has only just come. 

" But I am in time, I hope, to be among the first to wish 
you a happy new year; and to join with your friends and 
teachers in asking for you a blessing from our Father in 
heaven. 

" How I wish I could run in and have a talk with you ! 
I should hear what good children you had been, how much 
your teachers love you, and how you love the Sunday 
school. I could tell you so many things about the Sunday 



304 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

schools out here, about the queer looking school houses, 
the log cabins, and the Indians. 

" When I came here there was no church, no nice little 
room for a Sunday school, no teachers; but, [Here some 
part is lost,] and then every Sunday the little boys and 
girls come together, and I sometimes talk to them as I 
used to talk to you. But I wish you could have seen us, as 
we used to hold service ! The room in which we had Sun- 
day school was very small, and would not hold the people 
that came to hear the sermon ; so I had to go out of doors 
under the trees and there preach to them. Some of them 
would sit on the bare ground, some on a log, some would 
stand up ; some of the people were white, many of them were 
Indians. Now, it may be that many of you never saw an 
Indian, and you would think it very odd to see a great 
number of them together listening to the preacher as he 
told them about Jesus. These Indians — some of them — 
are very wicked creatures, they love to get drunk; and so 
we are glad when they come to hear the Gospel. They 
have no religion of their own, or at least they know very 
little about God, and they do not know anything about 
keeping the Sabbath day holy, and they do not like to hear 
us say they must not lie, and steal, and get drunk. But 
some of them have become good men, and we trust that 
many more of them will turn away from their wickedness 
and love God. And then, too, I am sure you would like to 
see them, when the service is over, mounting their horses, 
and winding their way through the forest to their homes. 
These homes are not large brick buildings, but most of 
them are little cabins, made of logs ; some are covered with 
straw, and you would not think any of them very good. 

" How I wish sometimes I had your school room, your 
teachers, your library books, and all your Sunday school 
out here ! I could show them, then, what a first-rate Sun- 
day school is, and I could make them understand how much 
better it is to be a Christian than a heathen. But if you 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 305 

have so many good things, how thankful you ought to be, 
how much you ought to love your teachers, how careful to 
read your books ! If we can get children to our Sunday 
school, how full ought yours to be. If little Indians know 
how to behave well, what ought you to do ? My dear 
children, God gives you many blessings, and you should 
love Him and keep His commandments. When you go out 
every Sunday, you ought to think how much better off you 
are than the little heathen children who know nothing of 
God and have nobody to tell them of Jesus ; and then you 
ought to remember, if you have so many blessings, how 
much better children you ought to be, and so live to try 
and be good men, and good women, to be yourselves a 
blessing to the world, and in your turn, send or carry the 
news of the Gospel to others. 

" But it may be you want to know just where I am. Well 
then, when you go to school, get your maps and look for 
the Missouri river. Follow it along till you come to 
Kansas. You will see that just where it strikes Kansas, it 
takes a turn upwards, and just there where it turns, is the 
place where I am now writing. As I sit, I can look out 
and see the river. This river is one of the longest in the 
world ; the waters come sweeping along from away up 
among the mountains, and on they go for hundreds of 
miles, till at last, they find their way to the big ocean. 
Sometimes I think it is a fine emblem of our lives. Away 
up in the rocks, the water is clear, and the stream is gentle. 
Then I think how like that is to a little child, so sweet, so 
innocent. Down here it is wider and the water is mixed 
with sand ; then I think how like that is to a child grown 
up, the innocence of childhood is often mixed with the 
sands of sin, and then the beauty is gone. By and by 
it falls into the ocean, and then I think how like that is to 
us all. We sweep along for a little time, but every year 
brings us nearer to the grave ; we sink to the great ocean 
of eternity, and are no more seen. 
20 



306 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" All along the river you may see great logs and old trees 
floating lazily along; sometimes they get in the way of 
boats, and are very dangerous ; then I think how much 
these logs are like wicked men. They drift along on the 
surface of society; they are no good to themselves; they 
are in the way of all good people. When I see a steam- 
boat I think how like she is to a good man ; she glides 
nobly along; everybody loves to see her; she carries a 
thousand blessings wherever she goes. If it were not for 
these old logs, how smoothly and sweetly everything would 
move. If it were not for these old sinners and wicked men 
in the world, how beautiful and happy would this world be. 
Now, my children, let me ask you a question. Which will 
you be ? Will you be an old log, or will you be a steam- 
boat ? Will you be a curse, or will you be a blessing ? I 
think I hear you, each one, say < I will be a steamboat.' 
Very well ; begin now. Begin with the New Year in good 
earnest. Remember you are sailing down the river of life. 
Keep a good lookout, lest you be wrecked. Take the Word 
of God for your guide. Listen to your teachers, who can 
tell you where the dangers are. Remember the great ocean 
which lies beyond you ; remember who it is that says ' Suf- 
fer the little children to come unto me.' Put all your trust 
in Him ; love Him and keep His commandments ; then 
God will bless you ; and when you have finished your 
course in this world, you will go to be with Him in heaven 
forever. 

" Now, my dear children, I do not wish to make my let- 
ters too long; some of you will be getting tired; but I 
wish to remind you of something you promised me when I 
left you. You all said you would pray for me. Have you 
forgotten it? Ah! I am afraid some of you have. But 
why forget ? What can I do without God's blessing ? Ask 
God to send His blessing upon me, and upon all who have 
gone to preach the Gospel. I have not forgotten to pray 
for you; I have often prayed for you, and shall pray for 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 307 

you still. May you all grow up in the nurture and admo- 
nition of the Lord. May you all be blessed in this world ; 
and may none of you be wanting in that upper world when 
God shall bring all His people together. This is the prayer 
of your old and true friend." 

The following letters to the Secretary of the Home Mis- 
sionary Society explain themselves, and prove that Mr. 
Perinchief was earnest and true in his missionary work in 
Kansas, and only left the field because unfitted for it by his 
impaired health : 

" Quindaro, Kansas, February 8, 1858. 
" Reverend and Dear Sir: Your letter of January 5th 
reached me last Friday evening. I should have attended 
to it sooner had I been able. I was very sick at the time 
it was placed in my hands, as indeed I have been for the 
past ten or twelve days, particularly. It cast a deeper gloom 
around my heart and made me feel more bitterly than ever 
the force of circumstances around me. That I should be 
regarded as the merest hireling, of course gives me great 
pain, especially when I reflect that I did not seek the posi- 
tion I have, as you yourself very well know. Had I wanted 
a place in which to do nothing could I not have found it 
nearer home than Kansas ? Did ever any man yet love to 
be sick; or, being sick, was there ever a man who did not 
fight against it? Or have I only been just so comfortably 
sick as to make it a mere excuse, when I could gain nothing 
by it, either here or elewhere ? That my friends should 
grow discouraged I am sorry; but, though I were not worth 
the trouble the effort would cost of stirring up my mind by 
way of remembrace, did not one of those friends know how 
much was due to himself as a Chistian to send me one line 
of encouragement — one word of counsel ? Can it be that 
they who care so much for the heathen can care so little for 
a poor erring brother ? At what point is there less self- 



308 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

denial than you were led to expect? Nay, sir, find the man 
and tell me who he is, in this Territory or any other, whose 
self-denials have been greater than mine. If I have done 
evil, bear witness of the evil; but oh! why send a dagger 
to a poor man's heart whose very sickness has been caused 
by the absence of the very necessaries of life, whose self- 
denials have made him what he is ? Thank God, my own 
conscience and the whole tenor of my former life are a refu- 
tation of every insinuation contained in your letter. I feel 
greatly grieved, it is true. Who would not? But God 
may give me a few future years, in which to make full proof 
of my ministry, in which to exhibit that character which 
by the grace of God has become what it is — in which to 
testify my love for my Redeemer and my devotion to His 
service. I will not deny that many might have been found 
much better qualified for this position than I. I knew 
nothing of Kansas life or of Western life, and all my former 
experience had been in another direction. The circum- 
stances were so new to me, and so little reliance could be 
placed on others, many of my plans failed. But after all, 
what have I failed to do? Even those who know nothing 
of our Lord admit that I fearlessly preach the Gospel. Have 
I not visited the poor? Have I not buried their dead, bap- 
tized their little ones, and fed the little fiock as well as any 
man could? But you say, C I suppose you have not gone 
from place to place.' I have when I was able. Besides, 
what is it to go from place to place ? When I was here I 
was nowhere else, and if I was nowhere else I was here. 
Again, you say I have built no church. Who in this Ter- 
ritory has ? I have always found some place in which to 
preach to the people, and we would now have had a hall of 
own had it been possible. 'We have no house.' And who 
has suffered most from that; or how could we have got one ? 
I do not know what my friends thought of Kansas or ex- 
pected of me, but I could have done very little more had 
I been never so well; though, to be sure, I might have done 



MISCELLANEOUS BETTERS. 309 

everything better. If they expected me to make a great 
noise and write very flaming letters, then they entirely mis- 
took my nature. I will never descend to such a pitiable 
business, while God shall give me grace to maintain my self- 
possession. It is very easy to make a great deal of noise, 
but it is unchristian. It is very easy for a man to think he 
is serving God, when he is only consulting his own popu- 
larity. 

" I am not now able to give your letter all the considera- 
tion it demands ; I may be stronger before long. I wish, 
however, to thank you for sending the money, though it has 
not come to hand ; I can only assure you I have greatly 
needed it. I would I had a choice about receiving it. With 
such a mistrust, would it not be better for our relations to 
cease with the close of the next quarter ; or at some given 
time which you may deem better ? When confidence is 
gone, all pleasure in transacting business ceases. If a mis- 
sionary committee cannot trust its own missionaries, it had 
better dismiss them. The man who could sell his honor 
for the miserable pittance of one hundred and seventy-five 
dollars, is not fit to be trusted in any office. However, the 
work here ought not to be left as it is ; somebody ought to 
be sent hither; people are now familiar with our services. 
They turn out to attend these services more numerously, 
perhaps, than any other. We have lots for church and 
parsonage, and we estimate that $ 3, 500 would build us both, 
if we could get it : a brick house, and a stone church. I 
say a church — I mean a lecture room, say 25 by 45 — large 
enough to accommodate us many years, but placed so, in the 
lot, that a church can be built in front of it, and this still 
continue as a lecture room. The town, beside our lots, has 
given us £ a share, 7 to be held by the church until such 
future time as they shall need a church, and then this ' share ' 
to be devoted to its construction. I do not think much beside 
this can be relied upon from the people here, though were 
the church begun, possibly more of them would give us 



310 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

something. We cannot begin to build until about the mid- 
dle of April, if so soon ; we must, I think, build the house 
first, for to the want of a place to live in, I trace all my 
sickness. I wish to call your attention to the fact that the 
reason of my being so late in speaking of these matters, 
grows out of my failure to hear from you. Last summer, 
in one of your letters, you mentioned that you were raising 
a parsonage fund, and that some of its earliest appropria- 
tions should be for me. In that letter, which seems to have 
been lost, I spoke of all these matters, and then gave you 
my plans, which were, I think, substantially then what they 
are now. I certainly expected to hear from you by the first 
of January, and that, I thought, would give us time ; there 
is no time to be lost ; get somebody to come here — give him 
the money — bid him live, and in God's name preach the 
Gospel. Respectfully and truly yours. 

" To the Secretary of the Home Missionary Society, 
" Philadelphia. Pennsylvania" 

" Quindaro, Kan., March 10, 1858. 
" Reverend and Dear Sir : Your letter of February 23d, 
is received. I am very sorry you should have taken my 
last letter as any evidence that I was angry. I am not aware 
that I was angry. It is true I feel deeply, when I do feel, 
and he who feels deeply will always express himself strongly. 
To be very amiable, however, in this, I will give a general 
assent to all you say. I could hardly defend myself without 
saying what might be construed into boasting. Saint Paul 
says he spoke foolishly when he boasted, and I don't know 
any reason for doubting his words or following his example. 
I frankly confess I have not been myself since the third day 
after I landed in Kansas. My letters to you and to my 
friends last summer are evidences enough of this, for though 
I kept no copies of my letters, I remember something of 
them. Nor were those to which you refer the worst. I 
was not all the time gloomy. I was sometimes easily excited, 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 311 

and in one of those strange fits I wounded the feelings of a 
friend, a circumstance which has grieved me more than any- 
thing which has happened to me since I was a child. I was 
sick or broken down considerably before I came here, though 
to be sure nothing but what I expected soon to overcome. 
The third day after I landed I was seized with sickness, by 
which I was greatly reduced. It is impossible to describe to 
you the circumstances by which I was surrounded. I con- 
tinued to grow weaker till I went back to Wisconsin where 
I did greatly recruit. My motive in bringing my wife here 
was not that she might share my trials, but that, by her 
assistance, those trials might be removed. I thought I 
could get a little shanty in which I could be more comfort- 
able, and consequently more useful than at such boarding 
houses as we have here, to say nothing of saving expense. 
If you think I was over-anxious about my salary and expen- 
ses, I trust you will pardon a man whose aged mother is 
partly dependent on him for support, and whom he was very 
anxious to help, and extend your charity a little further and 
pardon me for making this mention of it. Had the man 
with whom I made my arrangements kept his engagements, 
I doubt not my health would have improved during the 
winter, but when I returned, I had to enter into other plans 
and the winter set in early upon me. I had some carting 
to do one day, and not being able to pay Kansas prices for 
labor, I undertook to do it myself. At that time even, I 
was weak and had a cold on my lungs, being scarcely able 
to speak. In taking a heavy trunk from my wagon, I fell, 
bringing my spine across the edge of a board, the trunk 
falling on me. I had to be lifted and carried into the house, 
and from that day to this, I have not been worth anything, 
and during this winter I have suffered more than I am able 
to tell you, and am even now so weak that I shall not be able 
to give you i eight pages closely written.' My fall strained 
my back and brought on a kidney affection, successive attacks 
■of which have very greatly reduced me. These attacks are 



312 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

renewed by fatigue or by cold, which I often take, since I 
have not for some time been able to go out without walking* 
in the mud. 

"It seems, therefore, hardly fair to compare me with the 
strong and hearty money-seeker, who can easily live on fat 
pork, and heavy, half-baked bread. A man can do anything 
when he is well, and God knows how willing I am to serve 
Him. It is not likely that hardships would frighten that 
man who could live literally on bread and water for many, 
many weeks in college, that he might be the better able some 
day to serve his Saviour. It is not likely that he would be 
* faint-hearted before difficulties' who could teach all day 
and study all night for many a year, that he might be a 
blessing some day to his fellow-men. It is not likely that 
he w T ould be afraid of 'enduring hardness' who, before he 
entered the ministry, could travel for weeks in scorching 
suns, often in hunger and thirst, and resting at night where- 
ever darkness overtook him — who could pause at noonday 
to tell the laborer of Jesus, and gather the people on Sun- 
day to preach to them salvation in Christ. Even in Kansas- 
I have preached to white men, black men, and Indians, to 
rich and to poor, in the open air, in log cabins, in private 
dwellings, and I have reason to believe my labors have not 
been quite in vain. My works, whatever they are, are with 
the Lord, and if I have ever acted foolishly, my folly has 
been the weakness of the outer man, rather than of the- 
inner. God knows my heart, and He sees there that one 
out-reaching desire to live for His glory. If He has been 
pleased that I should be afflicted, I am resigned, though at 
times I doubt not I have betrayed an impatience inconsistent 
with my Christian faith. But I am far from being perfect, 
and God, I trust, will forgive this also. 

" If I am inefficient in Kansas, I would, under the cir- 
cumstances, be inefficient anywhere. When I got through 
preaching last Sunday I could hardly stand, and last week I 
was not able to prepare a sermon. You want men in Kan- 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 313 

sas who can work — preach the Gospel. I am not able. I 
deem it, therefore, my duty to leave. I am laboring under 
a disease which, if not speedily checked, I may never get rid 
of, and since God has raised me up a friend in my necessity, 
I purpose to avail myself of his kindness and rest or recruit. 
I shall go (Deo volente) to New York. If possible I shall 
see you there. From New York I may take a little trip on 
the ocean to Bermuda, where my mother resides, and if it 
be God's will to restore my health, I will return and go to 
work wherever God shall be pleased to send me. I there- 
fore hereby resign my commission, and all connection with 
your society, to take effect on the 5th day of April, the 4th 
of April being Easter day, I wish to preach here till that 
time. As to pecuniary matters, I shall leave them entirely 
with you, and since I hope to hear from you again before I 
leave Kansas, I will in my next give you my address in New 
York. 

"Keverend Mr. Moore, of Hempstead, Long Island, in- 
formed me some days since that he had sixty dollars for me. 
I took the liberty of asking him to forward it to you, and 
should nobody come to Quindaro, I will see Mr. Moore, or 
write to him and have him designate some other point at 
which he would like to have it employed. Pardon the ' hard 
words' in my last letter. I am, as you suppose, an ' impress- 
ible person,' of late more nervous than ever; and believe me 
yours in Christian love. 
"To the Secretary of the Home Missionary Society." 

To Mrs. Maria Thompson. 

"Brooklyn, New York, January 19, 1859. 
" My Dear Mrs. Thompson : A paper announcing the death 
of your husband, received a day or two ago, has overshad- 
owed my heart with grief, and revived a thousand reflections 
and reminiscences. There is gloom in the house which to 
me has always been filled with the loving warmth of Chris* 



314 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

tian cheerfulness. You and your children are mourning over 
the heaviest of all bereavements. Around you are the tears 
of the fatherless, and in your own heart the loneliness of the 
widow. I, who have shared with you so many joys, am not 
there to share your sorrows, and yet I am not unmindful of 
the sadness prevailing around you, and my heart gushes out 
in the deepest and most unfeigned sympathy. I was far 
from being prepared for such intelligence, for I had received 
no intimation even that the health of your husband was not 
as good as usual. He appears, however, to have attained 
the ordinary limits of human life. He required but little to 
reach the summit of three-score years and ten, and though 
his absence leaves a painful void in the hearts of all who 
knew and loved him, yet we cannot mourn as being forget- 
ful that God's mercy is manifest in sparing him to us so 
long, and now in taking him enables us to feel that 'he 
is not dead, but only gone before.' And then, too, his ' going 
before ' is certainly anticipating us by no long interval. Not 
all of us can reach the years he numbered, and I for one, 
when I read the paragraph in that paper, felt in my heart 
that he had preceded me only a little; that another friend 
out of the circle of time had gone to welcome me to the 
communion of saints in Heaven. Though it is painful to 
part with our friends, and to lay them lifeless and cold in 
the bosom of the earth, yet I think every such occasion 
ought to be to us only the more suggestive of God's good- 
ness to us, and the thought of that, ought to mitigate our 
woe, and cause our souls to go out toward God in grateful 
returns, and look heavenward with more eager aspirations 
after that preparation, which shall fit us to be numbered with 
the saints in light. 

"I place myself by your side a mourner on this occasion. 
Though it may be my place to comfort those who mourn, I 
could, to you, only repeat the consolations of that Gospel 
which in great part I long ago learned from you, and which 
I well know you have not neglected. In Christ is all our 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 315 

consolation. He assures us that 'Blessed are the dead who 
die in the Lord,' and what Christian heart cannot feel that 
it is better to depart and be with Jesus ? Why, then, shall 
we weep? Shall we mourn for the dead? Shall we not 
rather lament for ourselves? They are, we know, beyond 
all trial, all suffering-, happy with their Lord. We are still 
upon the tide of mortal contingency, the tears not yet wiped 
away from our eyes, sorrow and sighing not yet ended. To 
you and your dear girls I would say, the husband and the 
father has rested from his labors. He is where we are long- 
ing to be. He cannot come to us. We could not wish him. 
We shall go to him. For this we are left still hoping. God 
assures us we shall all be united, but in a union holier, love- 
lier, higher; in a union with God through Christ, beyond 
sin, death, and all separation. This is not merely our wish. 
It is the promise God has given ; it is fixed, it is sure. The 
spectacle of God manifest in the flesh, the man Christ Jesus, 
familiar with sorrow and acquainted with grief. Himself 
lonely, bereaved, weeping, suffering, dying; this is the touch- 
ing and resistless pledge of a Creator Father, and our hopes 
can never be wrecked, because they rose triumphant in the 
Son of God. This is our consolation ; it is great, let us re- 
ceive it; let us make it a part of our life, a vital and pre- 
cious comfort. Then, amid the partings and commotions 
•of this uncertaiu life, we shall walk more by faith, and daily 
reduce that faith more and more to a changeless and heav- 
enly reality. 

" My wife, though a stranger to you, would mingle her 
sympathies with mine, and assure you that she cannot be 
insensible to the surroundings of those who have been so 
much to me. Were it possible, both of us would make a 
brief visit to Middletown. This is quite impracticable. My 
health for sometime has been very poor indeed, so much so 
I find it necessary to give up my charge here and go away 
to the country. Ever since I went to the West I have been 
sick, and my expectations in coming to Brooklyn have not, 



316 OCTAVIUS PERLNCHIEF. 

with regard to my health, been realized. I am now think- 
ing of going to Maryland, among the Alleghany mountains,, 
to take a small church there which will require very little 
effort on my part, and so give me time during the week for 
invigorating my physical system, generally. This, the doc- 
tor thinks, might restore me. We cannot tell what is before 
us. When we get sick we keep moving about in search of 
health, and we, not unfrequently, think it strange we do not 
grow better, when in reality our troubles are incurable. I 
am not very sanguine as to my recovery. It may be God is 
soon to say to me, ' Son, come up higher.' I can only say, 
' Even so, the will of God be done! 7 I would be very glad 
to hear from you, if your daughters could spare a little time 
to give me the particulars of the sickness and departure of 
Mr. Thompson. Give my love to them both. The Lord 
bless you all, and evermore fill you with His abiding peace, 
is the prayer of your friend." 

To E. C. Cornell, of Brooklyn. 

"Brooklyn, March 9, 1859. 

" Dear Sir : A letter from you was placed in my hands 
on Monday, and had I been able I should most certainly 
have called in person to acknowledge your kindness. I can- 
not express to you the peculiar gratification which that note 
afforded me. Apart from the money it contained, valuable 
to me as it was, the assurance that I had been the instru- 
ment of contributing to your spiritual good was a compen- 
sation and delight than which nothing could be greater. 
That I might become such an instrument to mortals has 
been my guiding hope. For this I have labored. For this 
I have prayed, and when I gather up expressions like yours 
I seem to feel as if no blessing could extend it. Such ex- 
pressions are to my soul like that 'coming of desire,' 
which is said to be a ' tree of life.' 

" Your letter was all the more grateful as it was unexpec- 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 317 

ted, and while I return you a thousand thanks, in which ray 
wife heartily joins, I would beg you to believe that your 
affectionate generosity I shall never forget, and that to it I 
shall never recur but with feelings of unmingled happiness. 
Your letter itself places me under obligations to comply 
with your request, and will remain with me as a memento 
of the promise I made last Sunday. My prayer to God is 
that He will bless you more and more until we come to His 
everlasting kingdom. 

" Begging to be remembered to your wife, and sorry that I 
am no longer your pastor, I am happy in the opportunity of 
subscribing myself your friend and brother in Christ." 

To Mrs. John Marsden. 

" Mount Savage, 
"Alleghany County, Md., May 31, 1859. 
" My Dear Madam : The news of the death of your hus- 
band took me greatly by surprise, and, but for an absence 
from home, I should not have delayed this expression of my 
warmest sympathy aud unfeigned sorrow. How true it is 
that in the midst of life we are in death ! When I left the 
Church of the Messiah I left no person in it whose life 
promised to be longer than his, whose loss we are all called 
to mourn. I say * we are all called to mourn,' for you and 
your children are not alone bereaved. The Church of God 
at large, and the Church of the Messiah in particular, has 
lost an active friend, a cheerful and liberal supporter. 
Above all we have lost the influence of his example, the 
fervor of his piety and the glow of his sincerity. I felt a 
peculiar attachment to him, he was one of the first among 
those who gathered around me when I entered upon my 
duties in connection with the church to which he afterwards 
attached himself. I believe I was the first to administer to 
him the communion of the body and blood of our Lord, 
after his connection with the Episcopal Church. To me 



318 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

personally his kindness was unremitting, so that, though our 
acquaintance was short, I have much for which to remem- 
ber him. But all this, grateful as it is to me, his many vir- 
tues, better known to you, full of peaceful memories as they 
are, all this is not our consolation. Our affections twine 
only the more tightly around that which is worthy to be 
loved, and the more cherished the object, the more painful 
the parting. The consolation is, that he is not dead. Nay, 
he has entered into life, and is now enjoying the fruition of 
his years spent in the service of God. He has experienced 
that change which awaits all the faithful in Christ Jesus, 
and though we mourn in the flesh, let nothing rob us of our 
joy in the spirit, joy that his conflict is over, joy that we 
shall see him again. 

" Separation is one of our most common trials; it is also 
one of our bitterest. In order to meet the various relations 
of active life, it is of no uncommon recurrence, and nature 
had made it at last a common necessity. But God has 
softened such a condition with one of the most precious 
of all truths, that this world with its chances and changes, 
its sorrows and doubts and vicissitudes, is not our home. 
As a Christian people we profess to be looking for a city 
which hath foundations; a home in heaven ; a place of re- 
pose from all this unrest, and where one by one God calls 
us home. Those of us who remain ought not so much to 
wonder that our circle is broken, as to rejoice that there is 
a home for us all, when the circle shall again be reunited, 
and from which there shall be no more departures. In the 
death of those we love we team our own mortality, and in 
this case, if we have one less friend on earth, we have one 
attachment to heaven. 

" In the solemnity of this dispensation I would come 
to you as a mourner; I would repeat the promise of 
our blessed Saviour, and along with you revive those 
hopes which are only the shadows of sure realities to 
come. All these you already know ; let us hold them fast, . 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 319 

and make this the occasion of a renewed devotion to the 
service of Him in whom the dead are blessed, and like Him, 
over whose grave all our hearts are weeping, pass towards 
the mark for the prize of our high calling. Assure jour 
daughters that I have not been unminded of their affliction, 
nor have I forgotten to pray that they might realize the- 
promises of God to all the bereaved, and especially to the 
fatherless ; may His hand ever be over them, and His holy 
spirit ever be with them." 

To Mr. Albert C. Greene. 

Mr. Albert C. Greene, of Frostburg, Maryland, was for 
many years a warm personal friend of Mr. Perinchief, and, 
from certain letters which he had received, I am permitted 
to make the subjoined extracts. In the first, we see how 
the writer was constantly striving to elevate the people : 

" Cumberland, Md., October 15, 1862. 
"I had been hoping in some way to see you ; I wanted 
to direct your attention to Knorr's paper ; you know all 
about it, but you know that Cumberland and Alleghany 
counties need something more than a paper. They need a 
paper which shall be to them the vehicle of something good, 
scientifically, commercially, and morally — in every way 
good. I do not need to tell you anything about the people of 
these regions ; but let us hope that their case is not abso- 
lutely hopeless ; you know that if they manifest very little 
appreciation for anything truly good and great, it may be 
owing to the fact, that they have had very little of the truly 
good and great manifested, for them to appreciate. Now, I 
think there is very much truly good and truly great in Alle- 
ghany county. The misfortune is that too much of it is in a 
great degree latent; at the present time I do not design to 
go any further than ' Clifton,' in an endeavor to bring some 
of it out. The proposition I wanted to make is this : can- 



.320 OCTAVIITS PERINCHIEF. 

not you let Mr. Knorr have an occasional article from your 
pen for his paper? You can write upon a great variety of 
subjects ; you know there is scarcely a subject worth the 
notice of human beings upon which the people do not need 
information. If you write, you will in the first place help 
along the paper — you will be blessing others— many others. 
There are some people who think ; there ought to be more ; 
there would be more, if you could only get something before 
them to think about. 

"Cumberland, Md., December 81, 1862. 
" While counting up the mercies and blessings with which 
1862 has been laden for me, I cannot forget the continu- 
ation of your friendship and kindness. Before the old year 
expires I would pen some acknowledgment of your last favor, 
an acknowledgment delayed partly by sickness, and partly 
from having had much to do. The coal came in good time. 
The Lord reward you. Through the year upon which you 
are now entering may many blessings attend you and yours. 
God give us all grace to spend all these years in love to 
Him and to our fellow-men, that when they are all gone 
we may come together in their rich and abiding fruition in 
the kingdom of heaven. 

" Georgetown, D. C, July 29, 1867. 
" You speak of Maryland and her politics. Poor Mary- 
land ! Congress will have to take hold of her yet. Speak- 
ing of Congress reminds me that I sometimes enjoy a trip 
to the Capitol, though I must confess I have been much 
disappointed in finding my estimate of that body — both 
bodies — so far above what my observation sustains. The 
House lacks everything but noise and confusion. I cannot 
make out how they do to know when anything is done, or 
what it is, when they have done it. However, I do not pre- 
tend to have measured any of them. They will no doubt 
improve on acquaintance." 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 321 

Many of the letters addressed to Mr. Greene were urgent 
appeals for help in relieving the wants of poor widows and 
other people who had been discovered by Mr. Perinchief, 
while others were grateful letters of thanks for money re- 
ceived ; and it would seem as if this gentleman did a large 
business in giving money to the needy and suffering. As 
the two friends resided in the same town, there were not 
many opportunities for correspondence. I understand that, 
in addition to his duties as a clergyman, Mr. Perinchief did 
much hard work for the miners, and others in Alleghany 
county, by acting as superintendent of the public schools, 
in addition to all his other labors. 

To Mrs. William Hunter. 

The person whose death is alluded to in the following 
letter was the daughter of the Hon. William Hunter, of 
Georgetown, and Mr. Perinchief became acquainted with 
her in Cumberland, Maryland : 

" Mount Savage, 
" Alleghany Co., Md., September 3, 1864. 

" My Dear Mrs. Hunter : Mrs. Weld is about to write 
to you, and I avail myself of the opportunity to thank you 
for a copy of those lines, 'A Tribute to the Memory of 
Blanche,' so beautiful, so truthful, and so comforting. 

" It must be a source of great consolation to you to review 
the evidence Blanche left behind her of being reckoned among 
the angels. Not always is evidence so clear. With respect 
to all our beloved ones departed, we entertain a hope; but 
sometimes hope is clouded by misgivings, and bereavement 
is aggravated by doubt. The instant and instinctive feeling 
in thinking of Blanche is, she is not dead, only carried up- 
ward to kindred spirits, to joys and experiences not possible 
in this mortality. And though it is common and proper for 
us to say nothing but good concerning the departed, how 

21 



322 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

blessed it is in this case — there comes not even a thought 
but of the sweetest and purest good. 

"Within the limits of my experience, I know not one 
departure from the circles of time which has been so uni- 
versally considered, in those circles, as a personal bereave- 
ment. Blanche was a loss to all who knew her; or rather, 
let us say, Blanche was a great gain to us all. She was only 
lent to reveal to us a deeper certainty of great spiritual ex- 
istences beyond us. God lends us few such, nor does He 
ever lend them long. Blanche fulfilled her mission. We 
ought not to grieve so much at losing her, as to be thankful 
God ever gave her. She has left a new light for us along 
our pathway, and added a new attraction for us to the abodes 
of the blessed. This is God's design, I think, in giving and 
in taking away — to wean us from these shadows below, and 
to fix our affections securely upon the things which are ex- 
ternal. May He, without whom not a sparrow falls to the 
ground, sustain and comfort you and your family in this afflic- 
tion. May we all diligently seek that grace which sustained 
Blanche, and without which none of us can be counted meet 
for the enjoyment of the saints in light. 

"It was very kind in you to think of sending me a copy 
of these verses. I very much value them, and very sincerely 
thank you for them." 

To Rev. William R. Powell. 

"Mount Savage, August 9, 1866. 
" My Dear William: I have received many letters from 
you which I was very glad to get, though you have heard 
nothing from them. I have often looked at them and wished 
I had time to write. The fact is, for the past year I have 
hardly had one moment that I could call my own. Schools 
and church matters have given me the most incessant occu- 
pation. Do the best I could, I still had to neglect some 
things. I found it impossible to attend to both. I have,. 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 323 

therefore, resigned my connection with the schools and have 
now only my church matters to attend to. Since the 1st of 
August I have had a little more time. Church matters, 
however, do not look over prosperous in this region. Mount 
Savage has changed hands, as you know, and very much 
changed in all respects. I suppose in a month or two there 
will scarcely be one of the old employees left here. All the 
old clerks at the store have gone. Everything is new, and 
whether any better, God knows. One thing is certain, few 
of the new-comers are Episcopalians; generally, nothing at 
all. My wife gets low-spirited sometimes, and I suppose 
if all my people go, I must make a move, too. 

"At Frostburg, things are prosperous ; we have enlarged 
our church there, and though it is still small, yet it is large 
enough, and very neat and pretty ; its capacity is more than 
doubled, and the congregation is large for Frostburg. At 
Lonaconing I have service once a month, with very good 
attendance. You are not the only one in the world who 
has trouble ; s the same afflictions are accomplished in 
your brethren which are in the world.' The vicissitudes of 
life, more properly, the providences of God, force us about 
from one place to another; ' the cities of Israel must all be 
gone over ; ' there is no need of having a law of itineracy. 
We are all itinerants ; no doubt Christ intended it should 
be so, and therefore, blessed is he who has his part and lot in 
it, albeit, for the time being, it is not c joyous, but grievous;' 
I sometimes think though, there must be something radi- 
cally wrong in our church systems. I cannot believe our min- 
istry is what Christ intended it should be. We are called to 
a life of labor, much of which seems artificial, and in the 
nature of the Gospel not contemplated. By being ' elevated' 
to a certain social rank we are surrounded with wants; we 
create wants. Society does not furnish the conditions for 
meeting these wants, and we are, unlike St. Paul, ignorant 
of tent-making, and disqualified even if we knew how. 
Between these two elements we stand fettered with the 



324 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

1 cares of this life ; ' oppressed, I had better say; or perhaps 
depressed, for we mourn our unusefulness on the one hand, 
and our many cares on the other. Our unusefulness ! We 
are sent out into the world to do a great deal of good, will- 
ing enough are we to do it; one of the burdens of our life 
is, that we cannot more extensively do it ; but with the 
world made up as it is, one extreme of the earth wholly 
earthly, wanting no gospel, to whom a pure gospel is only 
as pearls to swine, to accommodate whom, we have often 
emasculated the Gospel, and are still doing it; the other 
extreme, wanting the Gospel sadly enough, but wanting very 
many things beside — so many things and so needy, that a 
heart full of love, and a head full of theology, are of little 
avail in the presence of an empty pocket. Between these 
two is a small scattered few, not wholly earthly, not want- 
ing the bread of this life, but education has made them shy 
of us, and our education has not taught us how, as wise 
fishermen, to fish for them ; and so we mourn, making up 
for want of success in quickened exertion, which, while we 
labor, it is with that sickness of heart, caused by hope de- 
ferred, making us almost feel it to be labor in vain. There 
must be a change, a new dispensation, before long; Cum- 
mings may reason it out of the Scriptures, but any man can 
reason it out ot our times. 

"I said our work is, much of it, artificial. In the first 
place, I feel that the entire position of the clergy is unnatu- 
ral. In consequence of it, the church itself is vastly too 
much, and too often, only a piece of worldly machinery. 
Europe can testify. England can testify. We could, too, if 
we were made to do it. We have too much liturgy, too 
much sermon writing and sermon preaching. Not only do 
men not feel the want of it, but human economy does not 
contemplate it. I have an idea that, except in cities and a 
few great centres, and sometimes even in all, the minister 
of Christ must be, and ought to be, the teacher of youth; 
for two reasons, one, that he can so exert a greater influence 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 325 

as a minister of Christ ; and the other, that in such work he 
can, by obtaining the wherewithal to meet his ' cares of this 
life' be relieved of them. The man of God must come 
down from his artificial perch, adapt himself more to real 
human wants; be more useful, and so gratify the great long- 
ing within him; be better supported, and so a happier and a 
better man. The man of God should have full exercise for 
all his nature. Much of our holier nature we cannot de- 
velop. Those nearest and dearest to us are farthest away 
from our reach. "We can beg for other people; for our- 
selves and our own, we cannot. Aching in every fibre, we 
must let no want be known, for then our selfishness kills 
our work. 

" I say, again, you are not alone in your troubles, and I 
say these things, because I sometimes discover in your let- 
ters a tendency to despondency. I have many times felt as 
you do, only I had nobody to write to, and nobody to give 
me any encouragement. I think it encourages us when we 
know other people are struggling just as we are, that they 
have trials like ours. But, I write as I have, for another 
reason. It may be you are troubled as I have been; I infer 
so from your letters. You are not useful enough. You feel 
so, I used to feel so, and do still, and more than this, I felt 
I must be useful in the church services and church duties. 
But now the feeling is considerably modified. Whoever is 
useful to his fellow-men serves God, or may serve God. The 
teaching of children is as sacred a work as teaching men and 
women. Your health, like mine, is not equal to the constant 
pressure of church work. Keeping the mind bent in that 
direction, will break up your whole constitution. You are 
beginning to break already, a remark in one of your letters 
about your readiness to depart indicates this. You are 
overworked, and if you overwork yourself, depend upon it, 
therein you do not serve God. You are underpaid ; you do 
not live as comfortably as you should. Paul told Timothy 
to take a little wine for his stomach's sake ; ' present your 



326 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

bodies a living sacrifice ;' not a dead one, and though I did 
not once think so, I think so now, that a man may and 
must religiously take care of himself. That there may be 
extremes of this which are sinful, in no degree releases us 
from the obligation. I do not know that in your present 
position you can help yourself, but if you can then you 
ought to do it. Could you not give up one of your 
churches ? Teach in one parish and have a service in the 
church once a Sunday? This might not give you any less 
work to do, but it will vary the work for you, and increase 
your pay, and so increase the means of taking care of 
yourself, and those whom God has committed to your 
protection." 

Letter to G. Ellis Porter. 

" Georgetown, D. C, July 2d, 1867. 

" My Dear Doctor : Your letter of June 29th is received. 
I sent you off a copy of that sermon yesterday. You can 
have more if you desire them for yourself or others. As 
to the burden of your letter, I hardly know what to say. 
It opens a long, deep subject; a subject upon which the 
thought will always reach further than the expression, and 
where the expression will always be likely to be misunder- 
stood. Beside, I feel I am very much like Mcodemus of 
old, though a teacher in Israel, very ignorant of many 
things both earthly and heavenly, so that I can hardly 
undertake to be your instructor, and yet if I can help you 
to a thought it will afford me the greatest delight. 

" If I could talk with you upon this subject, I would like 
it better, but since I cannot, you must take what I say as 
mere outlines. What I dimly express, write to me again 
about, and wherein you think I am wrong, tell me so, and 
tell me why you think so. 

u You say when you think of Christ, you think of Him as 
God manifest in the flesh ; so far, so good. Your next 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 327 

question is — ' Is not God the same whether at the manger 
or at the age of twelve, &c.' Most certainly He is. Bat 
you observe, God being always God and therefore self 
conscious, is a very different thing from the man Christ 
Jesus being conscious of the God in Him ; much less of His 
being always equally conscious. Ponder upon the words 
1 God manifest in the flesh.' He was good, or goodness 
manifest in the flesh, not the whole deity ; for I think with- 
out argument, you will admit that to have been impossible. 
Man could not have received such a manifestation, could 
not even now. ' No man hath seen God at any time.' All 
of God revealed to us, would have been no manifestation 
whatever, from the simple fact that it was all. One of the 
prophets said, ' Yerily Thou art a God that hidest Thyself.' 
Christ veiled Himself; took the form of a servant; the 
more easily to come within the limit of our comprehension. 
You recollect the story of a Moravian missionary, who 
went to the West Indies to preach to the slaves. They 
eould not understand or appreciate him. He became a 
slave with them ; had to throw off part of that Christianized 
manhood to which he wished to lift them, before he could 
€ven reach them. Moreover, I might here say something 
which will shock you, but do not misunderstand me ; Christ 
had not all the Diety, either to be conscious of or to mani- 
fest. Paul says, Col. 2d chapter, 9th verse : - In Him 
dwelleth all the fullness of the Godhead, bodily,' or incar- 
nately — but John explains this fullness in chapter first, four- 
teenth verse, i full of grace and truth.'' Recur to the doctrine 
of the Trinity, too often misunderstood, and bear in mind 
when we use the word Son it has nothing in it of filiation, 
no necessary reference to the manifestation in the flesh. 
Christ was the Son before the incarnation. It expresses 
essence, the second person of the Deity. The Father is 
God ; the "Word is God ; the Holy Ghost is God ; yet these 
are not three gods, but one God. Neither of these can 
take the place of another, and the whole cannot be complete 



328 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

without all ; so let us not comfound Christ with the rest 
of the Deity, except so far as to observe that the whole 
three • agree in one,' and what is the work of any one is 
the work of God — of the Deity. 

" You now see, Christ was not the whole of the Deity to 
be conscious of, nor to manifest. He was God, the Son,, 
viewed from his connection with manhood — Son of God. 
Christ often spake of the Father's work, of His own work, 
of God the Spirit's work. St. John's Gospel is full of these 
expressions. 

" Now, further still. All of God the Son was not mani- 
fested apart from what has been already said. The Trans- 
figuration would indicate this. Moreover, listen to that 
eucharistic prayer of Christ — 'And now, Father, glorify 
Thou me with Thine own self, with the glory which I had 
with Thee before the world was.' Not only before the 
world existed, but before He was incarnate; and, again, 
17, 24: ' That they may behold my glory,' &c, which they 
had not yet beheld, and which they could not yet behold 
till they and He were up in glory. 

" This brings us then to the question, whether Christ was 
conscious of all his Deity, as God the Son ? Remember, it 
is not whether he developed a consciousness ; but whether, 
even in His fullest consciousness, He was conscious of His 
fullest Deity. He took upon Him our flesh ; He became 
man. Ponder a little here. He became man. Logically 
carried out, if He became man, then He had no conscious- 
ness of Deity at all, except so far as the Divine Spirit was 
with Him, as with every- man. Suppose a man should 
become a child. We often say, if we had our days to live 
over again, how wise we would be ; but the becoming a 
child again would be only becoming what we had once 
already been— a child without the consciousness and experi- 
ence of maturity. Of course, for a man to become a child 
is impossible. For the Word to become man, is possible 
only with God. Here is the great marvel, God became 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 329 

man. Here is the sacrifice: His taking the form of a ser- 
vant. But, in becoming man, He conformed to His own 
laws, descended to all the belongings of manhood. He 
became perfect man, and the God was in Him, and with 
Him, only at the times in which it was needful, and in the 
degree in which it was needful. He so far became man, 
that there were times in which He was not conscious of 
the God-presence at all. ' My Gocl, my God, why hast 
thou forsaken me !' Unless you realize the perfection of 
Christ's humanity, you will fail to understand His work. 
In the temptation, you will have Him victorious because 
He was God, not because He was man, with whom were 
the Father and the Spirit, and so take away our hope. He 
then, in manhood, was doing a work of atonement for us, 
in having become man at all; and, as a man, showing us 
how to do our work for ourselves — man rising in the second 
Adam, as he fell in the first. This, the becoming man, was 
as I have said, the great sacrifice of all. Calvary and the 
resurrection were its consummation ; the manger was its 
beginning. But, though a man upon earth, He was still 
God in heaven, too; and so much of God only was with 
Him upon earth, as to make the whole work complete — the 
miracles, the precepts, the wisdom, the heavenly things 
revealed ; the proof that all God required of us was, in our 
manhood, a perfect harmony with obedience to, and compli- 
ance with, all his laws ; a perfect wisdom and perfect good- 
ness; a manifestation to us of how God would be with 
every man who wishes with all his heart to be with God ; 
with every man, even as He was with Him ; with every" 
man by means of the sacrifice He was then making, and 
which He had virtually made from the beginning. This, 
as I have said, made the whole incarnation a sacrifice — the 
' sacrifice for the remission of sin ;' a sacrifice which only 
God could have conceived. The sacrifice was so constituted, 
it became a model — a type. It not only took away from us 
our sin, but, in doing it, showed us how to become like 



330 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

God ; a prophecy that the race should attain the i full 
stature' of the man Christ Jesus. 

" This, however, is a little off the line of argument. 
Having become man, He in all things conformed to every 
law, the whole law of manhood. You say you have no 
difficulty in understanding the development of manhood. 
Clothe the Bethlehem Babe in perfect manhood, and you 
see Him of necessity, all pertaining to Him, become develop- 
ment. As a babe, He was not conscious either of manhood 
or of Deity. He increased in wisdom and stature ; in wis- 
dom as in stature. At twelve years of age the life-work 
begins to open before Him. At thirty the consciousness is 
complete; His manhood was perfect. The God in the 
manhood was all that God in manhood could possibly be. 
The Transfiguration intimated that there were degrees of 
the Deity which could not be manifested. The wilderness 
and Calvary prove that the manhood, whilst with the God- 
head, was yet distinct and in itself perfect. By means of 
the two, God spanned the whole extent of intelligent 
being. That may be little which is in either extreme, but 
that must be infinite which embraces the whole. At the 
resurrection the manhood was not laid aside, but through 
it glorified, all glorified souls will develop more and more 
into God. Thus Christ is our Alpha and Omega, without 
whom we must have been nothing upon earth, and have 
continued nothing forever — with whom, through whom, 
alone, we too have a life mission, a glory here, a glory here- 
after. 

" Does not this then answer your question ? Is it im- 
possible that this consciousness should at the manger have 
been perfect ? Do the laws of nature forbid it ? Are the 
laws of nature anything more, anything less, than the man- 
ifestations of the will of the Almighty? Was not God in 
the manger, and does not Omnipotence cover the whole 
ground of the difficulty ? All these questions open to 
many subjects. From them you appear to be under the 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 331 

impression that God can change a law or make a law arbitra- 
rily; that is a mistake. The perfection of law is the 
perfection of Deity. Law is the warp and woof of the 
universe. All was made when the universe was made. No 
new law has been made, or ever will be made. ' The law 
of life in Christ Jesus ' was in the beginning. The universe 
only continues a universe because God maintains all law. 
Even the miracles were not a violation of any law, but only 
the employment of laws above our comprehension. 

" God never goes to a super -ordinary law, when an ordi- 
nary law will do. To Him all laws are ordinary — only some 
are super-ordinary to us. The law of development is ordi- 
nary, relative to both. It is a universal law ; not a thing is 
known to us which does not conform to this law. Omnip- 
otence itself, then, never makes a law, but conforms to 
laws. It is, therefore, impossible that this consciousness 
should have been, at the manger, perfect. ( His waiting/ 
that you speak of, through eternity and upon earth, was 
then only that ' the fullness of time' might come. All law 
worked that the ' fullness of time' should embrace the full- 
ness of consciousness ; the fullness of time was only the 
fullness of proper development. 

" But, I will not detain you longer. I have written this 
as well as I could, hurriedly, and without much premedita- 
tion. I should have quoted for you much more Scripture, 
but I think Scripture will suggest itself to you. Altogether 
I feel conscious that I am unable to give you just the 
thoughts I would like to convey ; that is, because I am not 
wholly master of the subject. Nobody is. I sometimes 
think nobody can be. These are things into which the 
angels desire to look; but, as I said before, I do hope I 
shall be able to help you. Let me hear from you, and do 
not hesitate to say what you think." 



332 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

To Mrs. A. B. Tilghman. 

Among the friends of Mr. Perinchief, there were none 
for whom he and his family felt a warmer regard than for 
Mrs. Anna B. Tilghman, of Cumberland; as proof of 
which he named his only son, Tilghman. From a letter 
addressed to her we make the following extract: 

" Bridgeport, Pa., August 8, 1870. 
" I suppose my wife and children left you this morning. 
While I have been thinking ever since they left me — and 
more especially to-day — of the mercies and blessings that 
have followed them, of the great relief it was to get them 
away, of your great kindness to them, and of our obliga- 
tions to the good people of Cumberland who have done so 
much to make them happy. To my dear little children, 
this summer will forever be bright. They can never for- 
get; nor can it fail to be in its consequences a blessing. I 
cannot tell you how sensible I am of the service you have 
done me ; you have no means of knowing how great that 
service is. My heart thanks you and Miss Fannie, and 
Frisbie and his wife, and all your household, for the care 
and generous hospitality you have all exercised toward 
them. My great anxiety has been, lest they should prove 
too troublesome to you. I know how children are in con- 
stant motion and frequent mischief, and how desirable it is,, 
in such weather as we have been having, to be able to be by 
ourselves ; but, as I said, it has all been a blessing to my 
feeble wife and growing little ones, and that part, in itself, 
will, I know, compensate you. The results will long con- 
tinue, and may they be like ' bread cast upon the waters/ 
which you ' shall find,' even though it should be ' after 
many days.' " * * * 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 333 

To a Brother Clergyman. 

" Bridgeport, Pa., January 10, 1873. 

" I believe I have received two or three letters from you 
since I last wrote. I am most heartily glad you wrote when 
you did to let us know of your condition, and I am doubly 
thankful I can do something towards your relief. But, my 
dear brother, your letter set me to thinking, or rather 
brought my old thoughts to a focus. I have not been in 
the ministry sixteen years and have yet to learn how the 
clergy suffer. For years I suffered as you do. My wife 
and little ones suffered. I felt as you do about it — i duty,' 
'■'privilege? 'The disciple must not expect to be above his 
Lord/ &c; and beyond all doubt it is a grand thing to see 
men endure as the ' noble army of martyrs' did, for a 
good cause, for the sake of humanity, in the cause of God. 
But there comes a pause. God cannot look with pleasure 
upon men, suffering. The age of human sacrifice has 
passed. However willing a man may be to lay down his 
life, he can be justified in doing it, only when the sacrifice 
is nothing compared with the object to be secured. 

" It is here I long ago paused. I do not now hesitate to say 
that in my judgment your sufferings are those of scores of 
our brethren in the ministry, and so far from helping God's 
cause, are a downright hindrance and stumbling-block, a 
disgrace to the church — proof positive of insincerity in the 
church herself. 

" First. We live in an age of thought, and people all 
around us are growing in mental caliber. We are cut off 
from means of intellectual growth, and the people no longer 
have the confidence in us, and respect for us they once had 
for ' our cloth.' We are crippled. Second. The Episcopal 
Church can easily pay her clergy if she desires. There are 
not quite three thousand of us. Our salaries do not average 
$800 a year. Trinity Church, from her immense wealth, 
could pay the whole amount if she were so disposed, and 



334 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

have enough over to go on playing church, as she has been^ 
doing for so many years. 

" Episcopalians with all their church talk, are not all they 
pretend to be. They do not very often mean anything by 
their religion. The world thinks so at any rate, and you 
and I have reason to believe the world is not wrong. Hear 
what a bishop said yesterday in Philadelphia at the conse- 
cration of a new bishop — ' Brother, never were you so near 
my heart as you are to-day. If it were the will of God,, 
how gladly would I lay down my bishop's staff to go and 
work with you, and if need be die with you. It cannot be/ 
&c. Very likely! What stuff; all theatrical nonsense; 
just like the whole performance. Seven or eight bishops 
and nobody knows how many clergy present, in a long 
service, just to send out one bishop to a lot of Indians. 
Bishops were present from the four winds. How can they 
have so much to do ? Here comes the rub. What are so 
many preachers — 65,000, as shown by the United States cen- 
sus — laying down their lives for ? Is it for Christ ? Is it 
for any true church ? For any high, sacred truth ? Look at 
it ! What truth would perish to-night if the Episcopal or 
Baptist or any other sect were obliterated. Look at your 
town. Would any soul perish from spiritual starvation if' 
you were away ? Could not any two of you, yes, any one of 
you, in your town, do all the work that need be done ? Why 
then does it take six or it may be more, to do so little ? Is 
it not as plain as the nose on your face that we are all only 
partizans, only sectarians, one of Paul, one of Cephas, &c, 
nobody of Christ, since Christ alone cannot be divided?' 
And working for sects, being only sectarians, how can we 
expect or even ask the world to join us ? Talk of infidelity ! 
who are working harder to make it than this same thing we 
call a church ; a poor, earthly, distracted church ; look at 
its habits of life ; where do its practical laws come from ? 
Certainly not from the Sermon on the Mount. They come 
from Paris and New York, from the architects and milliners.. 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 335 

They have money enough to spend in pulling down all 
religion, but no money to spend in building it up. 'No; I 
say there are men enough in the ministry now — too many. 
Call a meeting of the ministers in your town, ask them to 
select one or two to stay there, and break the bread of life 
to the ten or twelve hundred people you have there. The 
people can support one or two, let the rest go to destitute 
places. You cannot do that, or if your ministers could,, 
your churches would not let you. You must all stay there 
and starve. God loves mercy rather than sacrifice — others 
must bind burdens which they will not touch with one of 
their fingers. I say again, in the light of common sense, 
there are too many men in the ministry already. At any rate 
I shall not call any more to go there. Men may go them- 
selves if they choose, but I object to their standing up and 
calling others to go. 

" You make a very wise remark when you say ' God 
works by means. He does not do by extraordinary methods 
what can be done, and ought to be clone, by ordinary 
methods.' That is true. Why then shall we be look- 
ing after everybody except ourselves, everybody's children 
except our own ? I am aiming now at convincing you it 
is your duty to seek some other place to work in, some 
place in which you will not be brought every year to face 
starvation or dishonor, every year to cry to the church for 
help. The church may help you this year, but what will it 
do next year? and the year after? We are commanded 
' not to be weary in well doing;' but the church minds 
that, about as much as she minds any of the commands of 
the Gospel. I think, cold or no cold, wife or no wife, you 
ought to quit your present place. If it were any question 
of renouncing religion or denying Christ, or of anything 
worth considering, I should say, stay where you are and die. 
But it is just the other way in every particular. If the 
churches existed from any love of Christ, there would not be 
so many. If for the sake of religion, or because of any 



336 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

religion in them, they would not let their ministers starve. 
I should say go to some field where there is work enough 
for all, where you will not be in each other's way. 

"As to coming to Pennsylvania, why come so far? When 
you had come, you would find a church which would not 
let you teach, anything; church people down this way know 
more theology any Sunday, than you or I ever heard of. I 
often think the church has determined what it knows, 
and that it never wants to know any more, and that it 
never will ; but must have what it knows repeated all the 
time, so that in case twice two are not five, it may some 
time or other become iive. Such a church would do better 
to get another table of stone, and put it up somewhere to 
speak for itself. Such a table would not eat, and would 
not feel the cold. It would be always reliable, and the 
true worshipers could sleep in security. 

" Things are in a bad way, I mean, bad way in the 
church, and for the church. I have no fears for the real 
truth as it is in Jesus, because I believe He is, and always 
has been, and always will be, Bishop; I don't want any 
other. He will bring things out right, though He may 
have to scourge us all out of the temple once more. Let 
us go on while our day lasts, sure that we are co-workers 
with Him. With that, as contrasted with mere sectarianism 
:for our guide, I think we cannot go wrong. Come then 
this way, or any way, stay not where you are. I think you 
would like Ohio, and I think Bishop Bedell would be glad 
to get you in his diocese. Southern Ohio, is a good climate. 
If you say so, I will write- to Bishop Bedell about you. I 
would speak to my bishop here, but he has more clergy 
now than he can employ, at any rate more than he does 
employ." 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 337 

Letter to John A. Flynn, of Georgetown. 

" Bridgeport, 
" Montgomery Co., Pa., May 31, 1871. 

" My Dear Mr. Flynn : The little package you sent me by 
Mr. Lanman, he placed in my hands last week, and I embrace 
an early opportunity of thanking you for it. I have found 
these little books very useful indeed, and some of those you 
gave me several years ago are still in active service. But 
better than all, it is very gratifying to know you do not 
altogether forget me. 

Having had Mr. Lanman here for a few days, I have heard 
all the Georgetown news. I am very glad to hear you are 
all getting on so finely at St. John's. Your new church, 
by all accounts, must be very handsome. I trust you are 
all growing in spiritual things as you are in outward things. 

For my part, here I am in a quite little eddy, where life 
is still and uniform. Though we are near to Philadelphia, 
and though the rush of the world is heard no great distance 
off, we seem not to have been struck with ' the spirit of the 
nineteenth century.' That spirit has kindly spared us, and 
left us to rest and enjoy life, without rushing into to-morrow 
faster than time is content to carry us. Our little church 
is 113 years old, some portion of it is still the original 
building, made of stone, strong and thick, as things used 
to be when men worked by the day, and generally did a 
day's work. Six or seven generations sleep in the shadow 
of the trees, and in some instances there they are, side by 
side, generation for generation. I somehow like to worship 
there, everything is plain and matter of fact, but everybody 
knows everybody else. There is a sort of social level, and 
the Sunday is a day not only of communion with God, but 
also of communion with each other. When I first came 
here, everything seemed odd, and I did not like it much ; 
now I am beginning to get more deeply interested in the 
people, and to like their solid matter-of-fact ways. My old 
22 



338 OCTAVIUS PERINCHLEF. 

taste for country life, is being gratified. Of late, I have 
quit my books altogether. I write one sermon each week, 
but I keep out of my study, i. e., out of the room in the 
house called my study. The yard and garden, flowers and 
chickens employ me out-doors, or did do so, till the weather 
recently became too warm. In the afternoon I get into my 
wagon, and go off on the hills visiting my people, or more 
properly making visitations, for a mere call is quite out of the 
question. In one thing, I cannot satisfy my people, and 
that is in my capacity to respond to their hospitality. They 
have plenty to eat, and eat plentifully, and if I were only 
equal to Fal staff, I should often be " in my glory." 

"I hope Mrs. Flynn and all your family are quite well. 
You must give them all, my kindest regards. If ever you 
come this way, we shall always be glad to see you, and I 
trust you will not pass us by." 

To Mrs. H. E. Wood, of Georgetown. 

" Mt. Holly, November 4, 1874. 

" My Dear Mrs. Wood : It is with the deepest sorrow 
that I hear this morning of the death of your good hus- 
band. If I could only come in and see you it would afford 
me the greatest satisfaction. I think of you all bowed and 
stricken in the bitterest affliction, more bitter than any you 
have ever known, and my heart really is there to mourn 
with you. 

" I always entertained the warmest regard for your hus- 
band ; my regard amounted even to an affection. He was 
so trustful, so humble, so meek and submissive in all his 
ways. I have often recalled his visits to me when he was 
in trouble, or when his way was a little more clear before 
him. Many are the lessons he has taught me of patience, of 
faith, of thankfulness. He was as pure and simple-hearted 
as a child. Often in thinking over the life he had led, and 
recalling no doubt the desire and purpose he had always 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 339 

had to lead a truly Godly life, he used to think it so strange 
that God had permitted so many trials to come upon him, 
and his trials too were of that nature so peculiarly trying to 
a soul like his. You know better than I can tell you how 
loving he was. The great strong element of his character 
was love and sympathy. Perhaps even you and the chil- 
dren after all do not know how near you were to him. I 
do not think he would have cared at all for any troubles of 
his own, so far as he was personally concerned. He was so 
truly unselfish, but when he thought of you and his little 
ones, then his burden pressed with all its force. I used to 
tell him God had some purpose in it all, and I think his 
trials did raise his faith, and he learned to walk more as 
seeing God near him. I think his trials were sanctified. 
They accomplished the purpose, one of the certain purposes 
of all trials, not to punish, not to afflict or grieve, but to 
chasten, to elevate, refine and purify. He is to-day, I feel 
sure, among the blessed, and now he knows why God led 
him, just as he did. Why his way was so shadowed, and 
why every step was so hard. He sees now that all of it was 
needful. The Saviour he loved and trusted, had some place 
prepared for him, and it was needful to prepare him for that 
place, and there was no way to do it but just the way God 
chose, and so it is with you and with your dear children. 
His Father is our Father ; the purpose of God respecting 
him, is His purpose respecting us all. You sit to-day in 
darkness, not because you have no faith, but because, under 
these blows, we are stunned, we are never prepared for them. 
It may be you think if you could only have known, have 
had a little more time to prepare for it, a little more warn- 
ing of what was coming ; but you would not have been any 
better prepared, it would still have been a dreadful shock, 
a mysterious providence. And now you must not give way 
too much to your grief. I do not mean you must not grieve, 
for that you cannot help. Thank God for these blessed souls 
we cannot help grieving after. It must please our Father 



340 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

that we do so love one another. But this is the point, out 
of your grief don't forget to thank God for giving you -such 
a husband. 

" Thank God for the hope you have, the full assurance that 
he is at rest. Look back over his life, call up all the happy 
spots — all that brightness of affection which blessed you all 
so much. Thank God for that! Remember now if your 
loss is great, it is because your gain was great. God gave 
you all that. It was all by God's grace, and the love which 
made up so large a portion of all the happiness you have 
ever known is not lost; it was in his soul, and that soul is 
in Heaven, and he is waiting there, and will not enter upon 
all his heritage till all of you are gathered home. Ask God 
for grace to follow him in faith, in submission, in patience, 
in love. Gather your children around you; tell them in 
the sacredness of this sad hour of the struggles of that life. 
Tell them where their father put his trust. Point them up- 
ward to that same God. Bid them walk as he walked, and 
be sure not to miss the road he trod. God only knows how 
He may sanctify this affliction. God only knows how all 
his life and now his death may be the means of saving his 
children, of keeping them from the evils that are in the 
world, and of bringing you all together, a happy, united 
family in Heaven. We shall none of us know all God's 
plans till those plans are completed. 

"Don't think your way is strange, for this is the way God 
leads His children. Don't think you are alone and forgot- 
ten. God will not leave nor forsake. The very time we 
need Him is the very time He is near, although sometimes 
in our weakness and darkness we do not know how near 
He is. My heart goes up to Him to-day for His spirit to be 
with you to comfort and sustain you. He will hear; He is 
there with you. 

" With earnest prays for God's blessing upon you and 
your children, most truly yours." 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 341 

Extracts from other Letters to the Same. 

"I see from your letter you are suffering dreadfully from 
your great and bitter loss; but you do not look at things 
in exactly the right way. It is not that you have committed 
any 'sin,' nor is it in any way God's desire to 'torment' 
you. ' God does not willingly afflict or grieve the children 
of men.' ' Think it not strange concerning the fiery trial 
which is to try you as though some strange thing happened 
to you.' You must remember that ' the same afflictions are 
accomplished in your brethren that are in the world.' This 
is God's appointed providence, and this providence contem- 
plates our good, not our punishment. God would bring 
you closer to himself. How can you know if you have any 
faith, whether you can trust God or do trust him, if you 
cannot and do not in an hour of darkness like this ? To 
trust where no trust is wanted, is easy enough, but to trust 
when there is no arm to lean upon, is truly to trust. Now 
is the time to see if you are truly thankful for the husband 
God sent you. You are evidently absorbed in the idea that 
God has taken him away. You had him, how many years? 
Suppose he had been taken before, or had been a different 
sort of a husband. You have thanked God for His mercies 
to you many a time. How much do you now thank Him? 
Many are the poor souls worse off than you, left under heavy 
burdens, to encounter a hard world without any of those 
recollections you have, who ought to be so full of comfort. 
Besides, there is another thing you forget. Your nervous 
system has received a severe shock ; I can see that from 
your letter. You cannot yet look at things calmly, sub- 
missively. It will take time to bring you round to that, 
but the time will come, and you should strive to bring it. 

" Go out as often as you can, once or twice a day. You 
have those children yet to live for, and it is your privilege 
now to set them an example of patience, of faith, which they 
may never forget. You need now to be brave and self-pos- 



342 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

sessed, review the past and point them to the blessing God 
sent them in their father ; point them to Heaven where their 
father surely is waiting, till you are all gathered to Him. I 
think this is your privilege. How good God is in giving 
you children able and willing to step in now and in some 
degree to be a help and comfort to you. You must think 
of this and teach them to think of it, and after the storm and 
the whirlwind will come the still small voice of peace and 
consolation. You will surely find it so. May God bless 
you. May His hand be over both your children, and His 
spirit always be with you. 

* * * "So you see how we are all in a world of care 
and trouble, how no ' strange thing ' has happened to you, 
but only that which is common to us all. It is very sad to 
think that in a world of plenty there should be so many 
heavy, heavy hearts. Something must be wrong. Our ways 
cannot please the Lord. God surely never intended us to 
live the way so many of us are living. It is not life, there 
is so little rest. These hearts of ours so seldom sing and 
are glad. I think God must pity us. I know he does, for 
as our hearts grieve when our children are unhappy, how 
much more must our Heavenly Father grieve when He sees 
us weary and sick and crushed under the cares and anxie- 
ties of this life. That He will help us, we may believe from 
the fact that He does care and does love. He does help us. 

" What would we do if it were not for the wonders of His 
providence ? How often we can see His hand in the circum- 
stances around us ! If one blessing is removed, it is not 
till somehow another is prepared to take its place. It is 
here possibly we find the meaning of all that otherwise seems 
so strange. God wants us to find Him. If we could mind 
His ways more than we do and observe His laws, surely our 
sorrows would not be so many or so great. If we could 
only love one another as Christ gave us commandment, if 
His church could only be what He intended His church 
should be, how much of want and of sorrow in that one 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 343 

fact flee away. Let us only look up and trust. Let us 
believe God is working out for us something far better than 
w r e know. In this way our very woes ma} T be sanctified, 
and like the clouds of heaven bring showers of blessing. 

^ jf: ■% ^ ^ ^c >k 

" Great as your sorrows are, there are others far greater. 
You may know the light you have, but you do not know the 
conflicts you have escaped. Out of your present needs may 
come a helpfulness, carefulness and self-reliance, integrity 
and piety, which will be better for your children when you 
.are gone, than any millions of gold or silver you could by 
any possibility have left them. 

"You say incidentally, when speaking of troubles not 
your own, you wish it were in your power to do good. My 
dear madam, do not go out to church debts and parsonages 
to get ideas of doing ,good. You have a priestly and royal 
office in that household of yours. You can offer there a 
sacrifice every day, of prayer, of unselfish devotion, submis- 
sion, toil and love : the sacrifice of example and instruction 
and encouragement to your children, of greater price in 
God's sight than all the churches of the land. 

"If we could see the end from the beginning, and know 
just what we were doing, it would be comparatively easy to 
do it. But then faith and patience could not do their perfect 
work. God knows what he is doing. In your case, possi- 
bly your children need to be thrown upon their own re- 
sources, made self-helpful, a little more personally acquainted 
with the duties and responsibilities of life, and so led up to 
the practical realization of the truths they have been taught, 
more trustful in God, more self-reliant amid the trials and 
temptations of life. We cannot always tell, but I think God 
has some purpose in all his dealings with us, to which we 
ourselves would say, 'Amen!' if we could see and know 
that purpose. But it becomes us, it is the office of perfect 
faith to say ' Amen ! ' without knowing it. And one part of 
•our Father's dealings with us is to brin^ us to that condition. 



344 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

We all need not only to say every day ' Thy will be done, 
but to pray for grace more and more; to say it out of the 
very depths of the heart. Then we become more and more 
as the little child of whom Jesus said, ' Of such is the king- 
dom of Heaven.'" * * * * 

To Mrs. Joshua Riley, of Georgetown. 

Mount Holly, New Jersey, February 22, 1875. 
My Dear Madam : I have just heard of the death of your 
husband. I cannot tell you with what feelings of sorrow I 
first read the news, particularly as it took me entirely by 
surprise, for I had not heard the Doctor was sick. As I 
reflect, however, upon the sad past, my feelings of sorrow 
begin to be mingled with emotions of praise and gratitude 
to God. My feelings of regret at his death begin to give 
way to. feelings of thankfulness that he ever lived. Such 
men are great gifts to us from God. Such men are men to 
be thankful for. I can imagine that in this hour of trial 
every energy of your soul is prostrated. You can think 
only of your loss. It would be useless to tell you to think 
of anything else; nor is it wrong for you to mourn. I 
thank God for these affections which bind us to one another, 
for hearts that hold and cherish us; I could wish that it 
were never otherwise ; but I thank God most of all for 
those who are so much worth the loving. What at any 
time can ever produce a great loss, except where there has 
been a great gain ! What can ever produce a great sorrow, 
when there is reason for- great thankfulness? Perhaps r 
now, while you grieve, and while it is not displeasing to 
God that you do grieve, it may be your opportunity truly to 
thank God for giving you such a husband, for lengthening 
out his years, and for all the blessings those years have 
brought you. I think when you gather your children 
around you, and think of the past, you must feel God has 
been very good to you all. I do not doubt but you do<. 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 345 

And in that thankfulness, and in all the facts, there is 
comfort. 

" I have not heard the particulars of the Doctor's last 
days, but I know his end was peace. His whole life was 
peace. To know the very kind of man he was, tells us he 
has entered into rest. He cannot return to us, but we can 
all go to him. This is part of God's purpose in such a provi- 
dence ; to make life more solemn, more faithful, that we 
may have part and lot with the faithful in the better life to 
come. I do not think the Doctor ever talked much about 
his religious sentiments, but he and I have frequently ex- 
changed thoughts, and I know he was a Christian. He did 
what was better than talking, he lived his religion, and 
now his work is done. He is reaping his reward. Thank 
God, I say, for such men. May our Father give you and 
me, and all of us, grace so to live, so to die. Would 
that more of us could so live as to be truly missed and truly 
mourned, when our work is done. My wife and I both 
mingle our sorrow with yours in this sad bereavement. 
We loved the Doctor; he was very kind to us; to my wife 
particularly in those dreadful sicknesses she used to have, 
he was untiring in his endeavors to relieve her. But there 
was something in the Doctor more than medical skill, and 
we loved the man rather than the physician. 

" So we pass away. May God sanctify the thought to the 
good of us all. 

" To-day is Monday, and I write a little hurriedly; but I 

thought it might comfort you to know you are not alone 

nor forgotten in your sorrow. With our truest regards for 

yourself, your daughters, and the members of your family, 

" Most truly, yours." 

Letter to Rev. John W. Nott. 

" Mount Holly, K J., December 30, 1875. 
"Your short letter is received, I might say your sad let- 
ter, for short as it was it had sadness enough in it. I knew 



346 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

there were sad hearts in this world, though it was Christ- 
mas season, but it had not occurred to me that yours could 
be one of them. What makes you feel so discouraged ? Is 
it the general condition of the church, or only your own 
local difficulties ? You say you don't see that your life 
means anything in particular ; but, my dear brother, there 
is probably not one true, earnest, wise soul in these United 
States which does not, with respect to itself, feel that same 
way. When David contemplated the degeneracy of the 
world, he said: 'I have cleansed my heart in vain and 
washed my hands in innocency,' and on another occasion : 
' Oh that I had wings like a dove, for then would I flee away 
and be at rest.' Poor Jeremiah wished that his eyes 
were a fountain of tears that he might do nothing but weep. 
Failing in that, he longed for a home in some vast wilder- 
ness, and Elijah brought up at last in a cave, happier in 
having a cave to go to, than David or Jeremiah were after 
him. So it would appear to be the lot of mortals to mourn. 

" No, I am not going to Georgetown. I am more anxious 
to find a cave or a wilderness. The letters I get from men 
in the ministry about churches, and the letters I get from 
churches about ministers, the facts which fall under my ob- 
servation in connection with both, to say nothing of my own 
experience and of my convictions evolved from all the ele- 
ments, take all the soul out of me. I feel discouraged. It 
seems sometimes as if I ought to do something to save men 
from the ministry. When I see too many of the clergy, to 
all appearance, just pandering to the times, just betraying 
all that is divine for the sake of place, I feel as if the Church 
cannot survive, and when I see the clergy, on the other 
hand, faithful and true men, just tolerated, often insulted 
and persecuted, hindered in their work, their whole being 
paralyzed and crushed, I feel as if something ought to be 
done to keep young men from falling into such a fate. The 
fact is, of late I have been sad and troubled. 

" But I console myself with the thought that, after all, 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 347 

"things maybe better than we know of; they may be exactly 
right now, and we may be looking at them the wrong way. 
God's work for you and me at last may be in us ourselves. 
I am more and more convinced that our work in this world 
and God's intention respecting us, is not objective, but sub- 
jective. We go looking o^-ward all the time, and God 
works, forever compelling us to look m-ward; and the ques- 
tion at the bottom of all is, not what we can do with life, 
but what at last life will do with us. Time is answering 
that with respect to me. My health is poor, and I often 
feel as if I must lie down and die; nor do I so feel in any 
way regretfully, either when I look back or when I look 
forward, and so I conclude that even if there were no other 
result, life could not have been altogether a failure. I do not 
doubt you feel so too, and you therefore possess yourself, 
■even if in this world you feel you possess nothing else." 

Bishop and Rector. 

Before submitting the following correspondence, the com- 
piler deems it his duty to mention this fact : When Mr. 
Perinchief omitted the ante-communion service in George- 
town, his health was in a very precarious condition ; and 
the request that he made for a Lay Reader was really a 
struggle for life. 

His letters are introduced by way of explaining an occur- 
rence which caused some discussion in the parish at the 
time, and those who place the eternal salvation of man above 
sectarian machinery, cannot but apprciate the noble Chris- 
tian spirit manifested by the Rector. 

" Baltimore, March 21, 1868. 

" Reverend and Dear Brother : Your note of the 16th, 

inquiring whether I have any objection to availing yourself 

of the services of a Lay Reader at Saint John's on account 

of your health being far from good, reached me in due course, 



348 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

but I was accidentally hindered from earlier answer. I am 
heartily sorry that my convictions of the unfavorableness of 
the letter and spirit of the law of the church to such an 
arrangement as you think would relieve you, compel me to 
decline approval. 

« Very faithfully and affectionately, 

" Your friend and brother, 

" W. R. Whittingham." 

"Baltimore, May 22, 1868.. 

" An inquiry which comes to me from your parish sug- 
gets the unpleasant fear that you may have made or signified 
your intention to make an arrangement to omit the use of 
the ante-communion service in the public readings of your 
church. If that be so, 1 am confident it must have been 
owing to your inattention to the fact that a declaration of 
the House of Bishops, made at the request of clerical and 
lay deputies in General Convention some years ago, settles 
the rule of the Church to be that the use of the ante-com- 
munion, whenever on Sunday a sermon is delivered, is not 
optional with the officiating clergyman, but obligatory. Of 
course its omission would be a departure from the courtesy 
of the Church, to which conformity is promised at ordina- 
tion, to which I cannot think that you would for a moment 
incline. 

"Faithfully and affectionately your friend and brother, 

" W. R. Whittingham." 

Reply. 

" Georgetown, May 29, 1868. 

" Dear Sir : Your letter of the 22d has been received. 
I thought I might see you in Baltimore, at the convention, 
and so explain in person the matter to which your letter 
related. I was, however, not able to see you, so I write 
now in reply. 

" It is very true, as you were informed, that I omitted 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 349 

the ante-communion service in the public worship at St. 
John's, on the third Sunday of this month ; I also omitted 
it last Sunday. 

" It has been long known to you that I suffer from nervous 
prostration, and, as you may very naturally suppose, the 
reading of our services goes far to depress my nervous sys- 
tem, and so increase my suffering. It was on this account, 
that I, not long since, applied to you for a lay reader's assis- 
tance, which was denied me, and that, too, when such 
.assistance is not contrary to the spirit or practice of the 
Church. 

" The warm weather generally prostrates me, and, in 
order to relieve me, some of my Christian people proposed 
that I should shorten the morning service. I consulted my 
vestry upon the subject, and they unanimously consented ; 
not only so, but urged me to shorten the service, and 
we agreed together that the ante-communion service be 
omitted for the summer months. 

" It was not in any forgetfulness of my ordination vows, 
•or in any indifference towards them, that I accepted the 
suggestion, and made the omission. I knew, and my vestry 
knew, that Cod loved mercy more than sacrifice, and we 
thought the omission would not offend Him, and we did not 
think any member of the church, under the circumstances, 
would be offended. 

" I take your letter, however, as an absolute refusal to 
allow such an omission, so, of course, that ends the matter. 
I shall, D. V., with whatever consequences to myself, resume 
the service on Sunday next. 

"I remain, sir, your obedient servant, 

" 0. Perinchief." 

"Baltimore, Whitsunday, June 1, 1868. 
" Reverend and Dear Sir : I am sorry, very sorry, both 
that I did not make myself understood by you in reference 
to the matter of a lay reader, during my late very pleasant 



350 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

visit in your family, and also, that you did not find an 
opportunity of letting me know that such had been the case, 
while recently here in attendance upon the convention. 

" The pressure of my attention on the last occasion was 
such, that the subject of our correspondence was quite out 
of my thought, or I would have taken pains to make an 
interview, having, as I did, once tried, though unsuccessfully, 
to catch your attention, in the hope of obtaining your com- 
pany to dinner at my house. 

"'I thought that you had understood me, as I meant, in 
our last conversation in Georgetown, distinctly to leave the 
question of the appointment of a lay reader with yourself; 
dependant on your own judgment of the state of your 
health, and requiring, in order to a commission from me, 
only the customary vote of }^our vestry requesting it, and 
giving the customary testimonials, (same in tenor as those 
for a candidate for orders,) in behalf of the person named. 
I had made, (and, as well as I remember, told you so,) the 
same offer to Mr. Williams. I now add, that if you would 
obtain the aid of Mr. Ogle Marbury, candidate for orders 
in the Seminary at Alexandria, I am willing to give him 
commission simply on your nomination alone. 
" Faithfully and affectionately, 

" Your friend and brother, 

" W. E. Whittingham." 

" Georgetown, June 16, 1868. 

" Right Reverend and Dear Sir : Your letter of the 1st 
instant was duly received.- I thank you for the letter ; I 
appreciate its kindness, and I owe you an apology for not 
sooner replying. The occasion of my delay is this : I wrote 
to the Seminary at Alexandria, to see if I could obtain the 
services of the gentleman whose name you mentioned, and 
I but yesterday received a reply, and it was in waiting for 
this, that I have been so long in acknowledging your letter. 

" Dr. Sparrow writes that he would not place obstacles 



MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 351 

in the way of my obtaining the services of Mr. Marbury or 
any other gentleman in the Seminary, only that he and the 
faculty would prefer the young man should not be away from 
the Seminary, and its special instructions on Sunday. The 
vacation begins there very soon; the young gentlemen are 
much occupied in preparation for examinations, and, as Mr. 
Marbury is so soon going home, he thinks it hardly worth 
while for me to begin with him now. 

" He proposes that I avail myself of the services of a 
gentleman there who is in deacons' orders. 

" I respectfully ask permission to avail myself of his ser- 
vices. I would ask whether, in case of your assent being 
given to me, that will be sufficient, or shall he apply directly 
to you ? 

U I am very sorry I misunderstood you in your recent visit 
here; rather, 1 do not know that I exactly misunderstood — 
I simply do not remember that anything was said upon the 
subject. That, however, would not be very strange. That 
day, as usual on Sundays, I was nervous and preoccupied, 
and so I could easily forget. I regret it. 

"I remain, dear sir, your obedient servant, 

"O. Perinchief.' 

"Baltimore, June 17, 1368. 

" Reverend and Dear Brother: For reasons already 
largely set before you, I decidedly prefer your employment 
of a deacon as your assistant, to the commissioning of a lay 
reader; and, therefore, although I would have been glad 
had it suited you to give Mr. Marbury work during his va- 
cation, very cordially assent to your arrangement for secur- 
ing the services of the Rev. Dr. Hammond. 

"I understand the arrangement to be only temporary, and 
therefore to require nothing more on my part than such as- 
sent; otherwise it would be requisite that I should ask the 
bishop of Virginia to assent to the transfer of his deacon to- 
this diocese. 



352 MISCELLANEOUS LETTERS. 

"Hoping that you find this weather less trying to you 
than it is to me, I am, faithfully and affectionately, your 
friend and brother, 

" W. R. Whittingham." 



Since this volume was prepared Bishop Whittingham has 
passed away. 

The natural inference to be drawn from the foregoing 
correspondence is, that he was exacting in regard to the 
ritual of the church, and such indeed had long been his 
reputation. It now appears, however, that his opinions 
must have undergone a great change ; for, it is stated on 
the authority of the Rev. F. W. Brand, of Emmorton, 
Maryland, who delivered a memorial address on the Bishop, 
that : " On the question of ritual, he thought the outward 
appearance to have nothing to do with inward holiness. 
He said that everything that went by the name of ritual 
was as dust to him. He hated sham or all that looked 
like sham. If he had any prejudice it was against every- 
thing which had or tended toward affiliation with Rome." 

In this particular the Bishop would appear to have been a 
follower of the rector whom he rebuked for his alleged 
shortcomings as a churchman; and we feel assured that 
nothing would have been more gratifying to Mr. Periu chief, 
with his great aversion to " sham " in the church, than to 
have known that such a vindication of his own views had 
been left to the Episcopal Church by one of its prime leaders. 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 



' The subjoined Chapter of Advice formed the conclusion 
•of Mr. Perinchief's journal, entitled "A Father's Legacy 
for his Children;" and as he left three daughters, and only 
one son, it was natural that his precepts should have refer- 
ence chiefly to the needs and duties of woman. It will be 
found to contain some additional glimpses into the charac- 
ter of his mind, and seems an appropriate topic for the 
close of that portion of this work which emanates directly 
from himself. 

Nothing was nearer to his heart than the proper culture 
of woman, and his enthusiasm on this subject may be 
expressed in a quotation from his sermon on " The Train- 
ing of Children :" " E"o great man has been so great as his 
mother.''' 

" I have been giving you an outline of my life, and I 
wish now to give you some particular directions with refer- 
ence to the management of your own. In what I have to 
say, I do not wish to be understood as laying down any 
commandments, but only as giving such advice as my expe- 
riences in life have taught me. 

" God has ordained that, beyond a certain period of de- 
pendence, each soul must be responsible for itself. This is 
a law that pervades the animal and moral kingdom. The 
little bird is dependent upon the parent bird till it can fly 
and provide for itself. The customs and laws of mankind 
have fixed the period of our dependence at the age of 
twenty-one. Up to that time a parent has the right to com- 
mand ; beyond that, only the privilege of advising. But, 

23 



354 OCTAVIUS PEEINCHIEF. 

though the child is no longer bound to obey, each one is 
morally bound to take advice; and very blessed are the 
children who have parents or dear and worthy friends to 
advise them. Happy are the children who follow wise 
counsels; they escape many evils and attain to much good. 
As you have seen, in the foregoing pages, I specially lacked 
just this element of advice ; just this force of a guiding 
hand and heart. If, in consequence of this want, I have 
the more bitterly suffered, I am but so much better quali- 
fied to give you sound advice ; and this, I entreat you, each 
and all, most diligently and most sacredly to follow. By it, 
my blessing may descend upon you, and continue with you, 
all your life,' and bring you at last to that land of rest, 
where, I pray, we shall all gather, after the trials of this 
life are passed forever. If, by following my advice, some 
inconvenience should arise, reflect at the same time how 
ignorant you are of other and greater evils, into which you 
might have run, without such advice as I propose to give. 

" As three of you are girls, I will direct what I have to 
say more toward the side of a wife, and what is requisite in 
her. 

" It is to this matter of marriage, therefore, I now turn, 
and in connection with which I would give you my most 
solemn counsels. 

" Marriage is the duty of some ; it is the privilege of 
many ; but, beyond this, there is a greater privilege still — 
that of not marrying at all. It is a mysterious Providence 
w T hich has ordained that the lot of one shall be bound up 
with that of another. Marriage is great happiness or great 
woe ; by no possibility can it antecedently be determined 
which way it shall be. 

" Toward a happy married life, four elements are essen- 
tial; and the first is, a sound body; nature teaches us the 
value of health in this matter, since she causes us to be 
attracted by beauty. Beauty, true beauty, is health, or in- 
dication of health ; do not, therefore, devote yourself so 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 355 

much to anything, that you shall sacrifice your health. 
Look well to that, and keep it up at all hazards. 

" The second element is ability to administer the affairs 
of a household. The wife makes the home, if home there 
be at all. One prolific cause of dissipation in men is the 
want of a home. Girls are anxious to get married, without 
any knowledge of the responsibilities ; they imagine they 
can live upon love. Fond of dress, and the world, ignorant 
of work, or of how any work should be done, they look 
upon the rosy side of life; they read all the poetry and 
skip all the prose. The poetry is soon exhausted. Men 
are so unreasonable; they caunot always have a super- 
abundance of money ; sometimes a wife makes demands 
upon the purse, and this is the first temptation to commit 
fraud. Senseless people do not marry to be of any use, 
especially if that requires a true service ; so the home is 
neglected, or rather it is never created. Here many a man 
finds his first temptation to late hours, evil company, and 
vicious habits. I can assure you that, of my own knowl- 
edge, many a woman has nobody to blame for a drunken 
husband but herself. The husband's place is to make all 
suitable provision for his family. He must be abroad, by 
day, at work, to protect them from want ; or with a limited 
income, he has duties which absorb his bodily and mental 
powers. He has his work laid upon him of God, his mis- 
sion to accomplish; it is impossible, therefore, that he 
should do this, and be able to attend to the details of living 
at home; and if he has not a capable and efficient wife his 
wordly affairs are soon ruined. 

" Remember how all this applies just the same to the 
husband, as toward the wife ; there are as many wives sacri- 
ficed by husbands, as husbands sacrificed by wives. It is 
very sad to see a true woman ashamed of her husband. 

" I would here, then, call your attention to the third ele- 
ment of happiness in married life, and that is : co-operation 
in your husband's life-work. 



356 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" A true woman does not need, at any time or every- 
where, to be toward her husband, merely intellectual, 
although I by no means depreciate intellectual women, and 
wish we had more of them. Only this is not what a true 
husband wants in a wife. He has finished his intellectual 
labors when he seeks his wife's society. He comes there 
for refreshment and recreation ; to any topic he may sug- 
gest, she should be capable of a true response. Nothing is 
more delightful than to follow with an appreciative woman, 
through history, poetry, or literature, the thousand and one 
rambles which lead the mind endlessly and delightfully on ; 
but even this is not always desirable. But it is well to keep 
informed on the current literature of the day, from news- 
papers and magazines, and stud}^ everything that will make 
a husband happy. 

" There is music ; what shall I say of that ? One thing 
I will say: Men oftener long for music, than they get it 
from their wives. Women should be careful to entertain 
their husbands, in this respect, more than they do. Even 
when no great musical ability exists, there maybe sufficient 
to make many an hour happy ; but there are times when a 
man wants neither newspapers, literature, nor any music, 
that makes much noise — only the whispered music made by 
playing upon each other's hearts. 

" And here I would introduce the fourth essential ele- 
ment to a happy marriage : a high intellectual, moral, and 
affectional character. 

" Your mother and I have done all we could to train you 
affectionately, morally and intellectually. We have given 
you line upon line, and precept upon precept. We have 
endeavored to lead you upward, into the purer and holier 
experiences of religion. This work you are to continue for 
your selves, ever striving to cultivate your minds, by read- 
ing that which is good and instructive, no matter to what 
department of literature it belongs. Literature is like 
nature; there are poisons, vegetable and mineral, coarse 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 357 

foods, and choice and nutritive substances. We do not 
pick out the poisons for food, except in the case of an 
inebriate, who is in that a fool. We do not content our- 
selves with that which is indigestible, but we strive to get 
something good. 

" So in literature there are poisons and coarse things, 
unworthy your attention ; then there are rich and juicy 
things, on which your soul can grow. Provide yourselves 
with these, and keep all others away ; have a mind rich in 
good things. Then, cultivate your moral faculties; have a 
perception of what is right and what is wrong, not from 
any mere conventionalities of society. Know why a thing 
is right or wrong, and then practice the one and avoid 
the other. Have a mind and will of your own. Cultivate 
your affectional nature ; this includes all that we call polite- 
ness, gentleness, kindness ; this gives that peculiar element 
of attractiveness, which leads, draws and holds ; it is the 
most mysterious power known upon earth, the power of love. 
It follows us from home all through life ; it lingers after us, 
and comes back from the grave and the past. It can be 
created and kept alive nowhere, so well as in the closet, in 
communion with one's self, and with God. It can be kept 
alive by no means on earth, so well as by a living faith in 
Christ, by a study of Him and of His word, by a practice 
of his precepts, and an imitation of his life. 

" Man is not a creature that can live by bread only ; 
creature comforts are no comforts at all, when they are 
supreme. When a human being would live only there, 
then God has determined that there he shall not live ; if a 
man would truly have these, he must also have something 
higher, these are only comforts, when they are secondary. 
That which characterizes man above the beast is heart, soul 
and mind, or affection, moral-sense and intellect. These 
three are so many parts, which together, make the human 
spirit. By as much as you lack in either, you fall short of 
manhood, or womanhood. 



358 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

" These three elements make the human spirit, or if you 
please, the unit man — mankind. But man or mankind is a 
duality, man and woman. They each have the same ele- 
ments, but in different proportions. They are counterparts 
of each other, each wanting the other, each gravitating 
toward the other, and both together in harmony, create 
mutual happiness or repose. 

" All this talk of modern times about the capabilities of 
the two sexes, is much of it supremely silly. Nothing is 
more disgusting to a man than a masculine woman, and 
nothing more repulsive to a woman, than an effeminate 
man. With respect to an equality, every noble sentiment 
in man or woman rejoices, but with respect to an identity, 
nature thrills through every nerve we possess her emphatic 
protest. 

" We are not the same, and cannot change places, except 
as we, to that extent, suffer loss. If nature had wanted 
more men, or more women, she would have had them. It 
is a singular fact, that the two sexes keep about even ; their 
relative numbers do not vary, disturb nature as we will, by 
what we call our civilization, God makes us still male and 
female. Nothing is grander than a real man or real woman ; 
but, for a woman to strive to be a man, is not only to fail 
in that, but it is to destroy herself; she makes nothing, and 
is a failure, sickening, impertinent, despicable. 

" I do not say that if anything is wrong in society, if 
oppression prevails, if unjust or unequal laws exist, they 
should not all be set right ; this is as much the duty of one 
sex, as of the other. Man can never oppress woman except 
at his own cost. As the race becomes more enlightened, 
both man and woman will be correspondingly benefited. 
The spheres of man and woman are equal in all respects, 
in usefulness, honor, and beauty. If there be any differ- 
ence, it is on the side of the woman. In man predominates 
the intellectual; he is called to grapple with grosser things, 
the rough and baser work falls to him. In woman pre- 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 359 

dominates moral-sense and affection; these are the higher, 
purer, and more spiritual elements, and they are also the 
more powerful, for they modify and control all the rest. 
Man makes more noise and more show, but woman has 
more power ; it is so in nature. Electricity and atmos- 
pheric air are both essential to our economy. Electricity 
keeps our earth true to the polar star, so that we do not 
leave our course and wander off into nothingness. But for 
this, air would be of no use to us, for we should soon be a 
wreck. How silent is electricity, how noisy is air ! Let 
each do its proper work. 

" Let man and woman do each their proper work, and 
all will be well for the race. When woman does her work 
well, man will do his better. Man represents intellectual 
force, woman represents moral force. You know what 
moral force means. Physical force drives; intellectual 
force constrains ; moral force attracts, and it is the highest. 
Physical force may be resisted — violence may meet violence ; 
intellectual force may be absorbed — it may pass in and 
become latent or dormant like heat in a bar of iron ; but 
moral-force is motion or life, like spring to a flower ; it 
imparts its own life to an object, and makes that object 
alive. Such is woman ; the true woman is life, beautiful — 
•divine life. But for her this world would be a desert. 

Above all things it is this life that man is hungering 
after. It is this our race so sadly needs. Man's sphere is 
that of constraint; woman's sphere is that of influence. 
Its arena is chiefly the home; though the place does not 
exist in which its power may not be exerted and felt. If 
you take a woman from her home, and turn her out upon 
the baser plane of man, you remove a force which nothing- 
else by any possibility can supply. Woman makes this 
world ; when she fails, the devil makes it ; that is signified 
to us in the legend of our first parents. Satan conquered 
Eve, but then he conquered everything but God. God put 
woman back, and Satan prevails now only when the woman 



360 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

forsakes her power. The home is Eden when woman is 
true ; capture her, and there is no Eden. A great flaming 
sword guards "the way. Barrenness and desolation is all 
that follows. 

" I dwell the more here, my dear daughters, to impress 
you with a sense of womanly dignity, usefulness and im- 
portance. In your times you will read much, in the news- 
papers about woman's rights and privileges, and by some 
possibility some such woman might cross your path and 
tempt you away from all happiness. May God defend you; 
let a pestilence catch you sooner; they are impure in all 
their being, and negligent in all their duties. Hence you 
hear so much about divorces and domestic infelicity. As 
young ladies, once get the idea that you must go to a man's 
college, or attend a clinical lecture in a medical institution, 
and you are ruined. If it be desirable for the sexes to 
mingle, then why should not young men go to Mount 
Holyoke, or to Vassar College, or to any young ladies 
seminary ? 

" You see there are certain elements which make up 
moral qualities, and should be cultured in woman. Man's 
tendency is to degenerate, and his only help is in woman ; 
let her degenerate, too, and all is lost. Hence God has so 
constituted woman, that, by a sort of instinct, she shrinks 
from grossness ; and this is not lost till disturbing and de- 
moralizing forces have carried her captive ; and when she 
is thus carried, she is a worse wreck than man. Hence the 
serious aspect of all the signs the woman world now mani- 
fests. 

" Moral force, then, is made up of elements which are 
capable of numberless forms and delicate degrees. Take 
modesty, for example ; nobody can tell all that it does. 
These elements embrace all that is comprehended in the- 
word virtue; and run up through the virtues into all that is 
spiritual — into all grace — and into religion and duty. 

" You will now see, that one thing requisite in a true 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 361 

woman is character, or culture; and this affectional nature, 
of which I have spoken, should be in you the force by 
which your partner in life is to be attracted, and which is 
to hold him, and develop him ; and, as time advances, make 
you two more completely one. The soul cannot live with- 
out communion with soul ; or, if it so live, it is dwarfed 
and unhappy. Life, it is true, runs unevenly, and the need 
of one hour is not the need of all. In fatigue or weariness 
the body must be refreshed. In hours of exhilaration and 
joy, there are privileges to be enjoyed ; but in hours of 
thought and repose there are needs of reciprocal thought ; 
of deep answering to deep; and this demand increases as 
years advance. 

" Sincerity must be one of the elements of character, 
that will please a true man and increase confidence, and do 
not seek to please by anything less than your real self. 
Only, no man can be himself at all times, and no woman 
can be uniformly delightful. There will be times in which 
you will need to bear — it may be — to suffer; there will be 
serene moments that come, and may they be made to come 
often, in which, affection, sentiment, holy thought, all blend 
in sweet experience. When the understanding and appre- 
ciation are reciprocal, precious are the hours that join two 
souls in such communion. The dawn of heaven is then, 
and the spirit is compensated for all that life has cost. In 
this, two are truly one — either is truly half the other. 

" Suppose you are a brainless, heartless being, with no 
culture of mind, no high-born sense of duty, no womanly 
instinct and ambition; what wise man would select you 
for a wife ? You see you must be prepared for duties. 
That implies character in you ; no trifling, superficial, make- 
believe — but real, solid virtues and capabilities. You must 
see that you are not wasteful and extravagant, but economi- 
cal. You should have ability of administration ; have a 
time for everything, and everything in its time ; a place for 
everything, and everything in its place. 



362 OCTAVIUS PEMNCHIEF. 

" Life is real, it means something. People talk of luck, 
and of chance, but there is not much of either. No wonder 
that thoughtless silly people fall into misfortune. Life has 
its privileges, but it also has its penalties. If we do not use 
the faculties God gave us, faculties of mind and judgment, 
we can but pass on and be punished. Very often young 
people moralize in the silliest way about marriage. To 
hear them talk, you would think they had upon their side, 
the experience of years. They do not exercise any reason 
of their own, but reject and despise the advice of friends. 
Blindly, madly, desperately in love, they marry, and before 
long reach results and misery, which were patent long ago 
to all but themselves. 

" Love which begins in respect, which is built upon 
reason, and fortified by wisdom, generally lasts, and all the 
elements work into increasing happiness. 

"And now, my dear girls, with all the earnestness of a 
father's heart, I entreat you to spurn the young man who 
has even a tendency toward dissipation, and whose com- 
panions are not pure. Be charitable, but remember your 
very life is at stake. Then see to it that the man who 
approaches you as a lover, has a useful and honorable call- 
ing, and has means sufficient to make you live comfortably. 
I do not mean that you shall insist upon wealth ; that is 
seldom a blessing, it brings in its train many burdens and 
evils ; but look for an established competency. Do not grow 
romantic and imagine you can make a competency after- 
wards. If you have anything of your own, beware how 
under any circumstances whatever you let it slip from your 
control. If you have any income, however small, that helps 
your husband. Whether it be large or small, he ought to 
be independent of it. See that he is. If he be a true man 
he will not wish to touch it. If he should wish to touch it, 
lie is not the man for you. I beg of you to observe this. 

" I am speaking now upon the assumption that you have 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 363 

perfect control of this matter, that your feelings are subject 
to your will. This assumption is not unreasonable. 

" Young ladies have a sentimental way of talking of love, 
as if the element of calculation should never come into it. 
But, true love does not ignore reason and sound wisdom, 
and the more these are the elements of love, the purer and 
holier that love will be. Let yours be governed by judg- 
ment, and not only require good principles and habits, an 
honorable calling and reasonable means ; but see that his 
disposition is cheerful, manly, and has domestic elements in 
it, and that he will win and sustain the respect of his 
neighbors ; in short, that your social position may be one 
of which you need not be ashamed. And remember what 
this involves upon your side. You cannot expect to win 
the affections of such a man, if you have not the virtues 
which I have advised you to cultivate. 

" You must study your work, exercise the skill you have, 
and so develop it; there maybe some failures, but, after 
awhile, you will have founded a system of habits, and things 
become conformed to your system ; persevere, and success 
comes at last. Never worry yourselves about what other 
women do. Women have a way of torturing each other, 
by constantly relating the wonderful exploits of some par- 
ticular person, some friend of their's. You may rest 
satisfied with this reflection — women are very much of a 
consistency, only one excels in one direction and another 
in another. It is folly for you to endeavor to combine every 
excellency in its highest degree, but remember that combi- 
nation will very likely be the best in which no one ingre- 
dient drowns all the rest. Moreover, the circumstances of 
no two women are precisely the same. Study yourself, and 
your belongings, and do the best you know how. 

" A young married couple are like a new ship going out 
upon a long voyage. There are storms upon life's ocean; 
they will not only come, but come when you are beyond 
the reach of help. No anchor can be let down; the winds 



364 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

and waves cannot be hushed — you must conquer the storm, 
or it will conquer you. The best provided will need all 
their resources, and have nothing to spare. Start right, 
then exercise all your knowledge and all your skill. Do 
each day the best you can. In prosperity enjoy it, but not 
so as to forget the day of possible adversity. Spend, but 
lay up; give, but maintain your ability to give; have a 
heart, but also a head ; have sympathy and encouragement for 
all; then you can have no unkindness for any; study and prac- 
tice always what is right and what is wise ; study carefully 
to live within your income, however moderate it may be ; 
resolve that it shall be sufficient to make you happy. You 
will find that in Christian propriety and moderation you do* 
not need much. Above all things, never let your heart go hun- 
gering after the follies of fashion, nor imagine that people are 
happy in proportion to their wealth. Prosperity and wealth 
for moral beings are of the mind and soul, not of the body. 
Culture and affection are the springs of happiness. Love 
God, and each other, my children, spend your days in com- 
forting each other, and in doing your own work — what 
your hands find to do, what God lays upon you; then, you 
will be happy, and you will be respected, too ; avoid all 
covetousness, and pride, and selfishness ; envy nobody, and 
never repine because some things are denied you which 
others have ; see how you can help and take care of each 
other, always remembering how you have grown up together 
and have been so happj 7 with each other. 

" When brothers and sisters dwell near each other in 
mutual interest and sympathy, very great happiness must 
be the result. I do not say we cannot form near friendships 
in life, and derive happiness from them, but I say old friend- 
ships are at least as good, and blood relation is best and 
dearest of all. 

" Your mother and I have been much among strangers 
and found many true friends; but how at times have we 
longed for those who were nearer to us ! When sickness 



A CHAPTER OF ADVICE. 365 

-comes or trouble, then you need some heart long intimate 
with your own to bear a part of your own sorrow for you. 
Many and many a time have I seen your mother bowed 
beneath a sense of loneliness ; often has my heart pitied 
her, and resolved that if I were spared I would endeavor 
to impress upon your minds, the importance of keeping 
near each other, that the world for you might always be 
cheerful, or at any rate the less dreary, by as much as you 
can cheer each other. If by the providence of God I 
should be removed from you, before you reach the years of 
maturity, you may still have your mother to direct your 
movements ; but if it should be otherwise ordered, and 
both should be removed, I trust some friend will rise up 
to direct you. Kemember that you belong to each other, 
and what any one has belongs to all. In any dispute that 
may arise, let the only rivalry be to see which shall yield 
first and yield most. My blessing and God's blessing shall 
be with the yielding one. Strife is an abomination to God. 
Settle an} 7 disputes by this rule. 

" But of course you cannot always live together. The 
time will come when life will demand some separation, but 
endeavor to live near each other. It often happens that 
families are scattered, and I look upon it as not unfrequently 
a very great misfortune in itself. 

"Asa general thing, the more private positions in life 
are the most desirable. You may sometimes see very 
prominent persons, apparently courted by everybody, and 
enjoying everything; but such persons really enjoy very 
little ; a great many of them have no friends, and know no 
friendships. You should consider well any position into 
which you are likely to be taken, and reflect whether you 
are likely to enjoy, or properly discharge, the duties the 
position involves. 

"In this world a great deal of happiness depends upon 
success in life. It is very true there is a great deal of ambi- 
tion which is simply earthy; it is altogether unworthy, of a 



366 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

Christian. Yet all such ambition is only the perversion of 
a sentiment, which God put in us, for wise and noble ends. 
All the benefactors of our race have been inspired by true 
ambition, and without it no man could ever be a benefactor 
to anybody. A man without a proper ambition is not a true 
man. To attain to success in life all his energies must be 
bent in one direction. A divided man may exist, but he 
cannot succeed. 

" You now see, my dear children, that you have some- 
thing to do. How blessed this world would be if young 
people would seek to be fit, before they seek to fill, any po- 
sition in life." 






THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 



During the whole winter preceding his final departure,, 
the health of Mr. Perinchief was at a very low ebb, and 
those who were familiar with all the bodily suffering, which 
he had endured for so many years, were filled with appre- 
hensions; but his indomitable perseverence, in fighting for 
life, and in doing all the good he could, seemed to know no 
bounds. After his physician had told him he must stop 
work, and stay at home, he insisted upon going to a neigh- 
boring parish to deliver a sermon, according to a previous 
engagement. When driven to the church, his carriage 
jolted over the rough, frozen roads, causing him intense 
agony, yet he persevered, and preached with a mysterious 
solemnity and power, as if conscious it was to be his last 
sermon upon earth — as it proved to be. 

When the time came that he could not leave the house, 
and could hardly sit up for more ,than an hour or two at a 
time, he consented to perform a marriage ceremony in his 
own chamber; but when he came to know that the closing 
scene was not far off, he forthwith began to arrange all his 
temporal affairs, and resigned himself to the will of his 
Heavenly Father. 

For, perhaps, six weeks before his death, his devoted wife 
was his constant attendant, giving him, with her own hands, 
all his nourishment and medicines, and during this period, 
the household affairs of the parsonage were under the 
supervision of two devoted friends of the family, Miss C. E. 
Hane, of Georgetown, D. C, and Miss Isabel Yocum, of 
Norristown, Pa. It was also his privilege to have with him,. 



368 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

for a few days, one of his brothers, Mr. Adeltah Perinchief, 
of Brooklyn, New York. 

Plis illness resulted from a complication of diseases which 
terminated in dropsy, and, after much suffering, but with 
his mind perfectly clear, he died on the 29th of April, 1877, 
aged 47 years, 6 months and 26 days. 

During his illness he was visited by several sympathizing 
friends, members of his former parish, anxious to serve 
him ; and the people of his own parish were unwearied in 
acts of sympathy and kindness. A few days before his 
death, he expressed a strong desire to see once more the 
Rev. John W. Nott, of Mount Savage, Md., a dear friend 
whose Christian character had inspired in him the love of a 
brother. Mr. Nott on being informed of his wish, was at 
his bed-sicle, as soon as the journey would allow. An 
account of the interview is given in a letter addressed by 
him to, Mrs. Perinchief, from which the following extracts 
are made. 

" Mount Savage, Md., May 10, 1877. 

" My Dear Mrs. Perinchief : I enclose to you the reso- 
lutions passed by the vestry at their meeting on Tuesday 
of this week. You will be sure that the feeling is far 
deeper and stronger than can be shown in any such expres- 
sion. 

" The life of Mr. Perinchief in these mountains was a 
power, and a light, and the news of his departure has stirred 
the whole community that remembers him. 

" I look back now with great gratification to the day or 
two that I spent with him and his family last October. It 
seemed to me then, that he was more than commonly well 
in body, and cheerful in mind ; but disease. must have been 
working secretly then ; yet I cannot recollect a look, or a 
word, or a tone that intimated as much. 

" The recollection of his last days must prove an inexpres- 
sible comfort to you in your bereavement. His firm faith 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 369 

in God, his warm love for mankind, never were more evi- 
dent than in the moments I was by his side. It was not 
the words, for he uttered but few that were audible to me — 
not altogether the tone or the look, though I could gather 
something from them, weak as he was — but something in 
the very atmosphere that floated around him, that breathed 
of faith, and love, and trust; and that full consciousness 
that seemed so surely to remain with him of your love, and 
devotion, and tender care. 

" You must know now, that his departure was inevi- 
table ; and since it must be so, it is a blessed thing that 
God sent the change surrounded by so many circumstances 
that must make the memory of those last days a fountain 
of help, and consolation and cheer for the rest of your 
life." 

His Funeral. 

The funeral took place on the 3d of May, and the sub- 
joined account of it was published in the Norristown Daily 
Herald of that date : 

" The funeral of Rev. O. Perinchief, rector of Christ's 
(Swedes') Church, Upper Merion, occurred to-day. Pre- 
vious to 11 a. m., a large number of the friends of the 
deceased visited the parsonage, a short distance from the 
church, where the remains w T ere viewed. They were 
enclosed in a handsome cloth-covered casket, with heavily 
mounted silver handles and plate, bearing the name and 
age of the deceased. The face was thin, and evinced much 
suffering, but presented a life-like and calm appearance. 
He was dressed in full Episcopal robes — with no flowers or 
decorations of any kind about him. 

" Precisely at eleven o'clock the funeral procession formed 
and proceeded to the church. A number of clergymen 
from a distance, including Bishop W. B. Stevens, preceded 
24 



370 OCTAVIUS PBRINCHIEF. 

the body, which was borne by Messrs. B. B. Hughes, Wil- 
liam H. Holstein, Wallace Henderson, and William B. 
Eambo, with Messrs. Benjamin Thomas and Dr. G. W. 
Holstein, as reserves. 

" The following gentlemen represented the Mount Holly 
(N. J.) vestry : Messrs. Ei chard C. Shreve, F. B. Levis, 
George C. Brown, T. H. Risdon, and Richard P. Holernam 

" From the Conshohocken vestry, were Messrs. Theo. 
Trewendt, Chas. Lukens, W. H. Cresson, John Cresson. 

" Members of the vestry and congregation of the Swedes 
Church, and others, followed. 

" Arriving at the church, Bishop Stevens, on advancing 
up the isle, recited the usual sentences of the church ser- 
vice, following which Reverend Isaac Gibson of St. John's, 
Norristown, and the choir, alternated in reciting and singing 
the anthem from the 39th and 90th psalms. 

"After singing the hymn ' Who are these in bright array?' 
the Reverend Hurley Baldy spoke as follows : 

" A servant and laborer in the vineyard of the Lord has 
gone to his rest, and we, this day, assemble to mourn oar 
loss. He was my early companion ; side by side we jour- 
neyed for awhile, and during our three years intercourse we 
talked hopefully about the future, and prayed in regard to the 
work before us. But he has gone, and to-day I can only bear 
tribute to his warm heart, frank nature, and the enthusiasm 
with which he entered into his labors, working with an energy 
and indefatigable spirit, as though the task was mighty and 
the time short. I come not here to eulogize him, the rec- 
ord of a good life speaks louder than I can. He not only 
labored in this but in other fields, which have sent sorrow- 
ing representatives here' to-day to mingle their tears with 
yours. Do we feel that there are others who could have 
been better spared ? The Master knows all. He took him, 
and how inexpressibly sweet, after his tried life and suffer- 
ings, must be to him the joys of Paradise. But we sorrow 
not without hope ; the glad echoes of our Easter anthem, 
telling of resurrection, have scarce died away, and we seem 
to hear the joyous greeting, ' well done, good and faithful- 
servant, enter thou into the joys of thy Lord.' 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 371 

"Reverend Isaac Gibson read the resolutions passed last 
Monday by the Clerical Society of Philadelphia, expressive 
of their grief at the sad event, and tendering their sympathy 
to the bereaved family. 

" Bishop Stevens commenced his address by an allusion 
to the resolutions which had been read, and expressed a 
hope that a discourse in relation to the character and ser- 
vices of the deceased would be delivered in that place. He 
then spoke substantially as follows : 

" Allusion has been made to the eloquence of our departed 
brother. He w T as, indeed, a man of rare mind, and com- 
manded the admiration of all who were privileged to hear 
him. You have witnessed his services, you have heard his 
sermons, yet never has he preached a discourse so eloquent 
and appealing as that which he speaks with closed lips to- 
day. Can you not now call up the lessons which he has 
read from this desk to you ; the earnest, urgent appeals to 
amend your lives, to seek first the kingdom of God ? Does 
not this occasion rivet his ministrations anew? Do you not 
remember how eloquent were his words and how earnest 
his actions ? But his ministry is sealed, and he has gone to 
render an account to the great Bishop and Shepherd of all; 
but the lesson remains, and from this day may it sink deeper 
and deeper into your hearts. Recall w 7 hat he said in regard 
to Jesus being your Saviour, in regard to your every-day 
lives. They were the utterances of a man of God, and should 
be thought of now as one who though dead yet speaketh. 
Only a year ago he came back to you, and now he lies breath- 
less. How little did he imagine so soon to finish his course 
and lie in the grave. God knew wmat was best, and he has 
gone from the church militant to the church triumphant. 
Within seven weeks I have stood over four clergymen of 
my diocese called from their labors. Is not this fact a les- 
son ? Let us then be up and doing while it is day, for the 
night cometh. He has been called to render his account. 
Let us trust that it was given with joy and not with grief. 

"In a few moments you w T ill take him and lay him beside 
your church door here. He will remain with you until the 
resurrection morning, and when the trump shall sound he 
will be ever with the Lord. Will you not strive to act that 
you may rise with him, pastor and people, shepherd and 



372 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

flock, and together hear from him who sits upon the throne, 
Come ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom pre- 
pared for you, from the foundation of the world. 

" The Bishop conducted the regular services at the grave, 
after which the choir sang ' Once more the spot,' from the 
Oratorio of Daniel, when the benediction was pronounced, 
and the sorrowing friends dispersed." 

As soon as his death became generally known, several 
of the parishes with which he had been connected, or where 
he had preached, especially those of Georgetown, D. C. , 
Conshohocken; Pa., and Mount Savage, Md., expressed 
their grief, through their vestries, by the adoption of ap- 
propriate resolutions. Those adopted by the Old Swedes' 
Church, of which he was rector, were as follows : 

u jResolved, That by the death of our dear pastor, Reverend 
Octavius Perinchief, the Protestant Episcopal Church has 
lost one of her brightest ornaments, Swedes' church the 
dearest friend that ever ministered to the spiritual welfare 
of her people, the congregation sustaining a loss that will be 
long and keenly felt. Not only his own parishioners but 
the community at large will miss his ready co-operation and 
kindly words in all that concerned their welfare. 

" Hesolved, That he was in full measure a clergyman, a 
true and sincere expounder of the rich treasures of the Gos- 
pel ; that in his life we had found a character full of beauty 
and nobleness. Only those who have enjoyed his ministry 
and abiding friendship can appreciate his loss. He loved 
his people; was intimate" with every member of the congre- 
gation, visiting them daily in their homes, sympathizing in 
their trouble, helping them in their need, fulfilling all obli- 
gations faithfully and conscientiously, and performing his 
work with an intensity rarely witnessed. Nothing appa- 
rently escaped his eye. His manner was irresistible. To 
all he had kind words of cheer and hope, and by his genial 
courtesy rich and poor were stimulated to greater activity. 
To all he listened patiently, affectionately and attentively, 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 373 

and to all gave good advice gently but with an appropriate- 
ness that endeared him to all. 

" in duty prompt at every call ; 
He watched and wept, he pray'd and felt for all." 

" Resolved, That in Mr. Perinchief education had one of 
its warmest defenders. An earnest champion, he never 
wearied in urging its importance, and sought to impress 
upon all the need of acquiring knowledge; every measure 
inaugurated to promote it met with his unqualified approval, 
and he was constantly active in devising means to save those 
who had never enjoyed the advantages of religious care, or 
school culture. His broad catholic spirit embraced the needs 
of humanity regardless of creed, sect or nationality, and like 
the Apostle Paul he was unwearying in his efforts to lift up 
the fallen, and by precept and example to lead all in the path- 
way trod by the Divine Master. 

" Resolved, That we who enjoyed the privilege of listening 
to his teachings should treasure the sacred memories that 
cluster around his ministrations, and so apply them that our 
hearts may be purified more and more until all are prepared 
to join him, where parting shall be no more. 

" Resolved, That our heartfelt sympathies are extended to 
the sorrowing home-circle in their sad bereavement. 

" Resolved, That the church be draped in mourning for the 
period of three months." 

In Philadelphia, where he was well known, the event of 
his death was thus noticed by the clerical brotherhood : 

" At a regular meeting of the Clerical Brotherhood, held 
on Monday, the 30th of April, in Philadelphia, the death of 
the Keverend Mr. Perinchief having been announced, the 
undersigned were appointed a committee to express the 
feelings of those present respecting the melancholy event; 
in obedience to which they have prepared the following 
minute: 

" May 7, 1877. 

" We deeply feel the loss of our brother in the ministry, 
who, though he moved so little among us, was yet beloved 
by all who knew him, and universally esteemed for his vir- 
tues and talents. He was peculiarly a man by himself, and 



374 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

of rare traits of character. Fitted to shine as a preacher in 
the most eminent places of the church, he yet voluntarily 
chose to occupy more retired ones. But in his chosen spheres 
he was everywhere the delight of his people, and always 
preached to large and appreciative audiences. Nor was it 
from any constitutional indolence, or indisposition to labor, 
that he thus shrank from publicity; for he was a most con- 
scientious and pains-taking man ; but from a genuine mod- 
esty and self-depreciation. We accept with thankfulness 
this example of our departed brother; and in this day of 
ostentation and worldliness, would hold it up as suggestive 
of better things. For all that he was— in his deep and earn- 
est piety as a man, and in his meekness, merit and power, 
as a Christian minister — we thank God for the gift that we 
had in him ; and pray that we may all have grace to follow 
him as he followed Christ. 

" Isaac Gibson, 
Benjamin Watson, 
Wm. H. Monroe, 

Committee" 

On the day after the funeral, which I was unable to 
attend, Mr. John S. Reese wrote to me the subjoined letter, 
the mournful character of which is relieved by its warm- 
hearted sentiments ; and a few weeks afterwards the writer 
of the letter was himself summoned to pass over the Great 
River, and all who knew the departed friends, would fain 
believe that they are both with their Redeemer, in the better 
land. 

I will mention here that during the last illness of Mr. 
Perinchief, he had an interview with Mr. Reese, which was 
mentioned as a very sad one, Mr Perinchief being completely 
overcome in parting from him. How soon they were to 
meet in another world was, then , known only to our Heavenly 
Father. 

" Baltimore, May 4, 1877. 

" My Dear Sir : Yesterday I was over at Bridgeport, to 
be present at the interment of the remains of our dear and 
lamented friend, Mr. Perinchief It was, indeed, a sad 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 375 

privilege ; during an hour or two in the morning his remains 
lay in the open coffin at the rectory, robed as for the chancel 
service; his face emaciated, but expressive of calm repose, 
while his ample forehead and projecting brows told how 
great an intellect had departed. While his remains thus 
lay, multitudes of his parishioners, both of Bridgeport and 
from Mt. Holly came to take a last look at their beloved 
friend ; many of the clergy were there, including the Bishop 
of Pennsylvania. It was touching, indeed, to see the poor 
and humble women of the parish stand weeping bitter tears 
over his coffin, one of whom, after a long look through her 
tears, kissed his brow, and turned away as with a broken 
heart. At eleven o'clock the coffin was borne to the church 
by four vestrymen from a neighboring church, relieved by 
four others, of w T hom it was my privilege to be one. The 
procession was formed with the clergy leading, followed by 
the vestry of his church, as pall-bearers, then the casket, 
followed by Mrs. Perinchief and the children, and family, 
among which were his good friends Mr. Graham and wife, 
with a long train of sorrowing friends. The church was filled, 
and many, doubtless, could not enter. The service was 
impressive and solemn ; Bishop Stevens made an eloquent 
and appropriate address. After the exercises were con- 
cluded, the vestry of his church bore the remains to the open 
grave, not far from the church door, around which was gath- 
ered the family, the clergy, and the multitude. The bishop 
read the final service, and the choir chanted some beautiful 
passages, and all was closed with a sweet hymn. Thus we 
laid him in his last resting-place ; dear, dear man, he has 
gone to his rest, but it may be said of him w T ith peculiar 
emphasis, ' though he be dead, he yet speaketh.' He has 
left behind him an influence which will never cease ; I trust 
steps will be taken to publish his sermons ; I cannot but 
believe a series of his sermons, like those of Robertson, if 
properly brought out, would meet with a large sale, and 
accomplish great good in the land. 



376 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

" He and Robertson were remarkably alike in many 
respects, and his sermons are in no sense inferior to Robert- 
son's, and you know what a sale they have had. !No man, 
with a heart open to the reception of truth, could ever go out 
from listening to his sermons, without having the conscious- 
ness of his capacity for a higher and better life aroused, and 
his aspirations for such a life stimulated. 

" I was gratified to learn that his family would realize, 
through life insurance policies, the sum of about sixteen 
thousand dollars. While we feel that we have met with a 
a great loss, what must the loss to his wife and children be." 

It only remains to be stated that not long after the clos- 
ing scene the people of Bridgeport began to make arrange- 
ments for a suitable monument to be placed over the grave 
of the departed. A memorial window was placed in St. 
George's Church, Mt. Savage, Md., by his former parish- 
ioners; and that, also, on the altar in the chapel of Racine 
College, Wisconsin, there was subsequently placed a pair of 
brass memorial flower vases, by a daughter of one of his 
most devoted friends. A memorial window was also placed 
in St. Mary's Church, Warwick, Bermuda, his native par- 
ish. It was designed in London, and represents St. Paul,, 
in a standing posture, holding a book, and leaning upon a 
sword, which, in mediaeval art, is expressive of his martyr- 
dom for the truth. 

Beneath the window is a tablet, on which is the following 
inscription : 

"To the Glory of God, and in memory of the Rev. Oeta- 
vius Perinchief, born in Warwick, October 2, 1829. Died 
in Bridgeport, Pa., U. S., April 29, 1877. 

" Erected by his friend, Thomas D. Middleton." 

Of this window, the clergyman of the parish writes : 
" It is costly and beautiful, and it must be very gratifying to 
the relatives and friends of Mr. Perinchief to see the appre- 



THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 377 

ciation of his great worth in so handsome a tribute. I am 
sure that not only the rector, but all the parishioners, too, 
are grateful to Mr. Middleton for thus ornamenting the 
church to which they are strongly attached." 

Residence of the Family. 

After the death of Mr. Perin chief, his family remained 
in the parsonage at Bridgeport during the succeeding sum- 
mer months, and then removed to Mount Holly, K. J., one 
of his former parishes. The inducements for returning to 
this pleasant home were the importunity of warm friends, 
and a grateful remembrance of their former kindness, and 
also a desire on the part of the mother to educate her three 
daughters at the excellent seminary of Miss Baquet, who 
had solicited the privilege of teaching them gratuitously, 
out of gratitude and affection for the memory of her former 
pastor. May and Helen are being educated through her 
generosity, and Lucy, at the same school, at the expense of 
Mr. Thomas D. Middleton, of Bermuda, her godfather. 
The only son, Tilghman, through the kindness of friends, 
is receiving an education at an excellent private school, 
" Andalusia Hall," in Bucks' county, Pennsylvania, now 
under the care of Professor A. H. Fetterolf, A. M. 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 



The following letters were sent to the compiler by a few 
of the most intimate friends of Mr, Perinchief, to be added 
to this volume. 

They contain sentiments which will be heartily responded 
to by all who knew and loved him : 

From Rev. Heman Dyer, D. D., Secretary of the Evangelical 
Knowledge Society. 

" New York, January, 1878. 

" In complying with your request to furnish you with some 
reminiscences of the late Mr. Perinchief, I would say that 
my knowledge of him, dates back to the time he was pur- 
suing his studies in Connecticut, preparatory to his entering 
upon a theological course at the General Theological Semi- 
nary in New York. At that time the American Sunday 
School Union was actively engaged in Sunday school mis- 
sionary work throughout our country, and was in the habit 
of employing students in our colleges and seminaries in this 
service. These students spent their vacations in visiting 
neglected districts, and in organizing Sunday schools when- 
ever it could be done. For this service a moderate allow- 
ance was made to them, besides their necessary expenses. 
Mr. Perinchief employed several of his vacations in this wa} T 
and with very marked success. Wherever he went he made 
a very decided impression upon all classes. I remember 
well the high opinion the managers of that institution formed 
of his character and talents. 

My personal acquaintance with Mr. Perinchief did not 



380 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

commence till after he became a student at the General Sem- 
inary, and it occurred in this wise : during a summer vaca- 
tion, while the professors and most of the students w 7 ere out 
of town, I was called on by a student who was still occupy- 
ing his rooms at the seminary building, and told that there 
was a student there who was very ill, and who desired to 
see me. Without delay I went to the seminary, and on 
entering the students' room was introduced to Mr. Perin- 
chief. I w T as not long in discovering that the young man 
was suffering as much from mental anxiety as from bodily 
sickness. My visit was a brief one, but I made an appoint- 
ment to see him the next day. In the meantime I saw some 
friends who authorized me to do whatever the case required. 
On the next day I called again and found him pretty much 
as he was the day before. Without delay I asked him if he 
was willing to make me acquainted with the cause or causes 
of his troubles. He responded in his peculiarly sensitive 
and nervous way, that he would be very glad to do so, if I 
would not think it too much trouble to listen to him. I 
assured him I was there just for that purpose. He then gave 
me an account of the struggles he had had in prosecuting 
his education, and the great difficulties he had experienced 
in meeting his expenses. The revelations which he made 
were simply amazing. Such labors as he had performed to 
earn money while studying; such self-denial in the way of 
food and clothing, and of comforts of all kinds, I never before 
had known ! But with all his efforts he had not been able to 
meet his expenses, and he came to the seminary considerably 
embarrassed by debts, which he felt he must discharge at 
any sacrifice. To do this, he boarded himself in his room 
and gave lessons to some pupils in the city, outside of his 
seminary duties. 

In his excessive desire to extricate himself from debt he 
nearly starved himself, and worked on an average of about 
eighteen hours a day. Here was the cause of his trouble. 
His health had utterly broken down. His nervous system 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 381 

was terribly shattered, and he was certainly in a most criti- 
cal condition. Surely, I had no words of censure. He 
needed more than anything else a warm sympathy, and 
such aid as Christian friends could render. I asked him if 
he was willing to make out a statement of his indebtedness 
of every kind, and of his present necessities in the way of 
clothing and personal comforts. This he promised to do 
before the following day. As I rose to leave him, I saw he 
was deeply affected, and I did nothing but grasp his hand, 
and say I would call the next morning. But it was plain 
enough he was a great deal better. On the next day, when 
I called, I found him brighter, and with a carefully prepared 
statement showing his indebtedness in detail, and for what 
things it had been incurred. It required a good deal of per- 
suasion to induce him to give me any proper idea of what 
he most needed for himself, and after all I had to guess at 
a good deal. The result of it all was, that his debts were 
paid in full, some needed articles of clothing were provided, 
and the means were put into his hands for rest and refresh- 
ment in the country. This was what he needed. But from 
the effects of these years of terrible strain upon his system 
he never fully recovered. This was shown by the exhaus- 
tion which followed his labors after he was ordained. With 
his ministerial life I was quite familiar. But as this will 
come out in other ways, I will not dwell upon it. During 
the period he was connected with the Church of the Mes- 
siah, in Brooklyn, I saw much of him. Though his services 
were most highly appreciated, and attracted, and held a large 
congregation, yet he was greatly depressed and cast down 
by a sense of unworthiness and unfitness for the place. 
Time and again, hour after hour, did I reason with him, 
and try to convince him of his mistake. But it was all in 
vain. He was nervous to the last degree and morbidly sen- 
sitive. Many a night did he spend in pacing his room, and 
conjuring up all manner of reasons why he should leave his 
people and the city. He became possessed with the idea 



382 OCTAVIUS PEKINCHIEF. 

that lie must take some small country parish or else give up 
the ministry. Again and again he declared he could not 
live in a city. One day he came to my office in perfect des- 
peration, declaring that he must resign without delay. After 
talking for nearly two hours, he left me and went into the 
book-store adjoining. I had promised to aid him as much 
as I could in accomplishing his purpose. Scarcely had he 
gone when three ladies called on me. They were perfect 
strangers, and introducing themselves, said they had called 
to see if I knew of any clergyman who could be had, to go 
to a small parish in the country, where there were large iron 
works, and many operatives, among whom the clergyman 
would have opportunities of usefulness, but with few social 
privileges; that there were only a few families of cultivation 
in the place. After a few minutes' conversation, I said a 
clergyman had just left me who would probably be every- 
thing they could desire, but that I did not see how they 
could support him. So strong was my conviction that he 
was the man for the place, that I went immediately into the 
book-store, where I found Mr. Perinchief. I took him at 
once into my office, and introduced him to these ladies. 
They soon were satisfied they had found the right person, 
and made arrangements for his visiting their parish. Thus 
it was that he went to the Mt. Savage iron-works, near 
Cumberland, in Maryland, where he, in a measure, regained 
his health, and did such a noble work. 

" I might speak of Mr. Perinchief s connection with the 
parishes in Brooklyn, Cumberland, New York, Georgetown, 
York, Mt. Holly, and Bridgeport, and of his other work, 
but this is unnecessary — I ever regarded him as a man of 
extraordinary gifts, and of remarkable traits of character. 
He was excessively modest, and shrank from everything 
that had the least appearance of putting himself forward. 
I remember once spending hours trying to induce him to 
accept a call to an important parish where the salary was 
ample, and the opportunities of usefulness were very great; 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 383 

he persisted in declining, and on the ground that it was too 
conspicuous a position. He said he could never meet their 
expectations, and jet he was at the time in very straitened 
circumstances. 

" Thus it was all through, life ; he would sacrifice himself 

CD ' 

rather than take any position for which he did not think 
himself qualified. His friends knew how really gifted he 
was, but he did not seem to know it at all, and as he would 
follow his own convictions, one of the most brilliant minds 
of our Church was allowed to remain in comparative ob- 
scurity, and leave the world, without attracting any special 
attention. Mr. Perinchief was unquestionably a very great 
man." 

From the Rev. William P. Orrick, Hector of Christ Cathedral. 

"Reading, Pa. 

" In undertaking to contribute even a short sketch to the 
memorial of one whom it was my high privilege to know 
for some years, first as a pastor, and afterwards as a friend, 
in whose sympathy I ever found help, and whose wise counsel 
I ever sought on occasions of important decision, and never 
failed to receive, I am conscious that I am unable to fulfil 
what I have attempted, even to my own satisfaction; much 
less to the satisfaction of others. It is difficult to gather 
up the impressions of a character like that of Mr. Perin- 
chief, so as even to define to ourselves what he was ; much 
more difficult is it to convey to others that which we feel to 
be a correct conception. It is, with such a character, as 
with the work of a true artist ; the subject is so simple, and 
the materials so unpretending that you are at a loss to know 
what is the source of the power which takes hold of your 
soul, of the strange fascination that leads you back to it 
from pictures that possess so much more of color and 
figures, and all things with which inferior artists try to 
commend their works to an undiscriminating public. You 



384 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

ask yourself why do I feel, upon looking upon this picture, 
that which I miss in looking upon others that pretend to so 
much more than this ? You cannot answer your question 
to yourself; you could not tell another wherein lies the 
power of the picture — you can only feel it. The power is 
there because the artist has perceived the thought of God 
•as expressed in the bit of nature which he has painted, and 
has put that thought into his picture. So it is not easy to 
express to ourselves or to others the power of a character 
in which the elements of greatness and simplicity were so 
harmoniously blended. To whatever we may trace it, the 
fact was evident to all who knew Mr. Perinchief that he pos- 
sessed the power to impress in an unusual degree, although 
he used none of the arts of popularity, and seemed to know 
nothing of them; although a man of strong convictions 
and decided opinions, and although he did not shrink from 
bearing his testimony against everything which he believed 
to be wrong — even though it might be the darling sin of his 
congregation — yet no man ever had a more devoted people. 
In all the congregations to which he ministered, there are 
those who think of him with an affection beyond that which 
is usually given even to a valued minister; an affection 
which but few of one's near kindred can inspire. He had, 
in an eminent degree, that which has been called ' per- 
sonal magnetism,' which, if I should try to define it, I 
would sa}^ to be the power of a strong, pure, true soul to 
draw other souls to itself by the power that is in them — 
in all, I believe, in some degree- — to admire and love strength 
and purity and truth. The circumstances of the parish in 
which I first became acquainted with him tested his power 
as it could not have been tested at any other time. He was 
called to the charge of Emmanuel parish, Cumberland, Md., 
early, I think in the year 1862, in the midst of the excite- 
ments and distractions of the civil war. Never had the 
Christian minister a more difficult task than that of serving 
a congregation in the ' debatable land ' of the border States 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 385 

during those long years that seemed as if they would never 
end. People who had been friends from childhood, school 
playmates and members of the same home were arrayed 
against each other. Frem the same congregation, young 
men went out to the contending armies. Every battle car- 
ried a possibility of loss and mourning to those who sat side 
by side in the church, some having given their choicest and 
bravest, and now hoping, fearing, praying for the success of 
the North ; some for the South. Their divisions were not 
upon matters of sentiment but upon that which seemed to 
them a question of life and death. Victory for the one 
meant defeat for the other; rejoicing for the one side meant 
sorrow and sinking of heart to the other. It was no easy 
matter to be the pastor of both parties. Sometimes the 
clergymen would try to escape the issue by concealing his 
own sentiments and thus become the object of suspicion on 
the part of both ; sometimes, thinking it unmanly and faith- 
less to high duty to keep silence upon questions which con- 
cerned the vital interests of the people, he made his pulpit 
the incitement of strife and debate, intensified the already 
bitter contentions and unnatural alienations, and left his con- 
gregation without the ministrations of the Gospel at the 
time when the need of them was sorest. From the time of 
Mr. Perinchief's accession to the rectorship, the people of 
Emanuel parish enjoyed a singular immunity from the dis- 
tractions w T hich had destroyed the prosperity of other simi- 
larly-situated parishes, and which had began to effect their 
own. He did not conceal his convictions with regard to the 
questions of the day, all knew what he thought and felt about 
them. He did not shrink from saying even from the pulpit 
that which he thought it his duty to preach. But such was his 
personal influence and the power that he exercised over their 
hearts that they would endure to hear from him that which 
they would not have listened to from any other. This was 
partly because of their great reluctance to give up his friend- 
ship and his valued ministrations, and partly because they 

25 



386 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

knew that he spoke not as a bitter partisan, but as a Chris- 
tian — spoke because a sense of duty demanded it; spoke in. 
the spirit of love. They knew that he acted conscientiously 
in all that he did ; that he was guided by the highest rule 
of right, and that nothing could take from them his love 
and sympathy in all their trials and needs, however he felt 
constrained to condemn what they approved in the solemn 
and weighty questions which divided the land. He did much 
to soften asperities among his people by leading their minds 
to see and to think of things still more important. He lifted 
them up out of the atmosphere of debate and contention, into 
the calm and love of that upper sphere wherein dwell the 
things that are eternal. They began to feel the blessing of 
having such a ministry of strength and consolation to their 
souls in a time of so much anxiety and distress. 

" Those two years of battle and of storm were to those 
who worshiped in that beautiful church, years of most 
precious gain in thought and character. They are pages 
of life's history upon which are written experiences most 
sacred and impressions most cherished ; to many they were 
the beginning of a higher and better life, intellectually and 
spiritually ; they w^ere lifted up into a plane of purer atmos- 
phere, and of loftier, wider vision of life. A door in the 
vast temple of being was opened through which they could 
see beauties before unknown and unsuspected ; all life and 
its belongings became like a new thing to them. The in- 
struction to which they listened, with ever-increasing 
interest, was different from that which is usually heard 
from the pulpit. It was singularly free from all conven- 
tionalisms in thought or phrase, but full of the truth, * as in 
Jesus.' It did not treat subjects in the usual sermon style; 
there were none of the set forms, and the well-worn phrases 
which were familiar to the hearer of sermons twenty years 
ago, now happily giving place to a less artificial and more 
direct way of saying what one means, and giving truth to the 
souls that need it. There was thus a freshness naturally in. 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 387 

the thought, but also in the way in which it was presented, 
which caught the attention of his hearers; before their 
minds were able to appreciate the thought, the unusually 
simple and direct words in which the thought was conveyed 
to them, made them listen. They felt not as though they 
had come to listen to a sermon which was part of a relig- 
ious performance, at which it was the custom for respecta- 
ble people to be present once a week, but as though there 
was one, very much in earnest, who had something to say 
to them which it concerned them to know. The power of 
his style of sermonizing was in its simplicity and directness, 
yet his words so glowed with the inspiration of truth that 
they became at times true poetry. Both in the thought and 
in the expressions you saw the individuality of the man ; 
like all men of decided originality of thought, he found the 
usual forms of expression unable to represent the thought 
with the accuracy which he required. Hence there were 
many words and expressions which he adopted or made up, 
which gave to his sermons a peculiar individuality. They 
seemed the very reflection of the man, and to belong inti- 
mately to him. The matter of them was no less fresh and 
forcible than the style ; the old well-known truths of 
theology were placed before the people in such a way that 
all felt as though they were new. His originality did not 
consist in setting forth unpractical theories or strange fancies 
about the things which God has not revealed to man ; the 
thoughts which he presented to his people were eminently 
practical ; no one ever preached more to the thoughts and 
hearts of his people than Mr. Perinchief ; no one got nearer 
to their lives and divined their souls' need with more true 
insight ; his people would often remark how strangely the 
words of the sermon would come to their minds during the 
week as an answer to questions which the circumstances of 
their lives brought up ; how often the incidents of the week 
would recall some thought which had been presented to 
them from the pulpit. His preaching was, in this way, 



388 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

eminently ' preaching to the times,' which is so much talked 
about and so loudly demanded now-a-days. But this was 
not the ' preaching to the times ' that people usually mean ; 
they mean, very often, discussing the latest theory or fancy 
of a ' science, falsely so called,' or else the effort to gain for 
the utterances of the pulpit an attention which they could 
not otherwise secure by tacking on pieces of common-place 
morality to the incidents of the daily news column. 

"His 'preaching to the times' meant speaking to the 
wants of hearts that are everywhere yearning and anxious, 
and to the questions which minds are everywhere asking, 
as they have been since man departed from the Source of 
Truth and Consolation. The sermons were not only thought- 
ful, but they stimulated thought. The power to think, so 
largely a latent power among all classes of people, could 
not fail to be excited and developed by contact with a mind 
so active, and by the presentation of truth with all the vivid- 
ness which belongs to the words of those who see it for 
themselves, and describe it as they see it — not as others have 
described it to them. The preacher made them feel that 
the truths which had been given to them in a well-worn 
form, and to which they had perhaps listened for many 
years without much thinking whether they meant anything 
to them or not, were living realities, verities of the highest 
importance, realities belonging to the now and here. 

" It was only after a time that the people of Emanuel 
Church began to realize that they were unusually blest in 
the pastor and teacher whom God's providence had sent to 
them. They had not known much of him before they called 
him to the rectorship of their parish. When he was first 
spoken of, some one had said that he was not an interesting 
preacher, but a good man. The people, feeling the disad- 
vantage under which their parish lay because of its position 
in the midst of excitements and dangers of the war, and 
because of the difficulty of serving a congregation so di- 
vided by fiercely-opposed convictions and sympathies, were 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 389 

willing to accept any pastor who would restore to them the 
ministrations of their church, of which they had been for a 
time deprived, and so he was called. Very soon they began 
to realize that God had provided for them better than they 
had hoped. Each succeeding Sunday deepened the impres- 
sion which, his living, forcible thoughts, and simple and 
vigorous style, and his earnest manner, made upon their 
minds, and they began to recognize the fact that it was no 
ordinary teacher to whom they listened. They soon began 
to prize his instructions. They would not willingly miss a 
single sermon, for they felt that it was a real loss. They 
felt that their thoughts were widened, their souls strength- 
ened, and their hearts — amid all the disquiet and anxiety of 
those days of war and tumult — were strangely comforted. 
To those of greater thoughtfulness and more decided reli- 
gious character, his instructions were beyond all price. 
They recognized in him a teacher sent from God. He 
opened to them just the truth which their souls needed for 
their growth and strength in the things which are best and 
highest. He lifted them up into an atmosphere where their 
souls could breathe in life and vigor. He put before them 
the truth which they loved and craved in such a light that 
their souls were entranced by its beauty. He unfolded, with 
the power of one who by deep experience had himself learned 
it, the love of God, the tenderness and sympathy of Jesus 
Christ, so that their souls were enabled, in all circumstances 
of sorrow and anxiety, to dwell in abiding peace and com- 
fort. How dear to the memory of all who shared the priv- 
ilege of his ministry is the thought of those years, and all 
that they brought to the mind and the soul, of uplifting, 
widening, purifying and strengthening influences. How- 
precious are those influences to the hearts of all ! How the 
people missed the stimulus and uplifting of his teachings 
when he was gone ! 

" In some measure the power of his preaching was that nat- 
urally belonging to one who can see truth for himself, and can 






390 OCTAVIUS PEBJNCHIEF. 

describe his vision to those who cannot. It was the power 
of genius. His mission to the people was that of genius 
everywhere; God puts his truths in parables, in nature, and 
in the word. To some he gives the power to find out the 
meaning of the parables and to give it in turn to others. 
Those who have the power to perceive the thought of God 
as expressed in his creation, revealed and yet concealed to 
all save those who have the seeing eye, we call men of orig- 
inality, men of genius ; we recognize that they have some- 
thing to give us which we cannot get for ourselves ; some 
portion, however small it may be, of that divine truth, that 
divine essence, of things whose value outweighs all other 
values upon earth. Such was the character of Mr. Perin- 
chief s instructions. They were not truths, however good, 
delivered at second hand, but truths which he had seen for 
himself, which God had revealed to him, and which he gave 
to them, not in the well-worn forms of sermonizing, ' but in 
such language as they clothed themselves with in his own 
mind.' His range of thought was very wide, and the supply 
copious. The impression produced by his earlier sermons 
was not weakened by after repetitions of the same thoughts. 
On the contrary, the high standard of thoughtfnlness and 
originality was sustained to the last. New truths were 
unfolded to his people and old well-known truths became 
new in the light which his genius shed upon them. His 
people used to say that each succeeding sermon was more 
striking than those which had preceded it ; perhaps because 
they were unconsciously growing in power to receive and 
to appreciate the thoughts which were given them. He was 
enabled to sustain the draught upon his fund of thought the 
more easily because all his soul was given to his study. He 
loved, or as he said to me once, ' his life was to meditate 
upon the deep things of God.' His whole intellectual and 
spiritual life was poured into his sermons ; he did not ' get 
up ' subjects to write about. He was always meditating, 
pondering the 'deep things of God,' because that was his 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 391 

life and his joy ; consequently he preached from his fulness 
and not from his emptiness; consequently, too, preaching 
was a labor of love. The truth burned and glowed in his 
own soul so that he could not but tell it to all who would 
listen, and he asked no more joyful employment than to be 
telling it; not only from his sermons did it become evident 
that he loved to think of the truths of religion. His con- 
versation was as rich in thought as his sermons. Indeed his 
sermons were only a part of his conversation, and both were 
the outcome of his inner life. His conversation most fre- 
quently turned to 'the subject of religion,' as the phrase is. 
But this subject was not lugged in as a matter of duty or in 
.a professional way ; on the contrary, it was so mingled with 
other subjects that the distinction between secular and sacred 
was obliterated, not by secularizing what was sacred, but 
by lifting up things secular to the plane of things sacred. 

"It seemed the most natural thing in the world that men 
should think and talk about the things of religion. They 
were, in the light in which he placed them, felt to be some- 
thing which was of real meaning to man as man, something 
which was inextricably interwoven with his nature and his 
life, a real factor in the life of effort and trial such as is al- 
loted to man on this earth. Men felt, as they listened to 
him, that religious truth was not a part of an artificial sys- 
tem of things which God had chosen to impose upon men 
as the condition of their welfare in a future life, but which 
was as real an element in their life on earth as their every- 
day business. He showed the connection between religion 
and the daily life of man, because he thought of them only 
as thus connected. All truth was to his mind not only theo- 
retically, but really, one. As he expressed it, in his sermon 
on 'The words of the wise and their dark sayings,' 'people 
often speak of natural religion in a way that would imply 
that there is an unnatural religion, as though God in Christ 
had done something contrary to his own law.' And again, 
"'The glow-worm is not opposed to the sun — light is light.' 






392 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIBF. 

All avenues of thought in his mind led up to the One Source- 
and Centre of Truth. He looked upon man and upon human 
life from the stand-point of its immortal and spiritual rela- 
tions. He estimated everything temporal and earthly as it 
was related to the eternal and the heavenly. He looked 
upon all that made up or had a bearing upon life and man, 
in the light of that revelation which represents man as an 
immortal being, struggling, in the midst of much ignorance 
and against much opposition, to reach an ' exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory.' 

" His power in the pulpit was enhanced by ' the man be- 
hind the sermon,' as it has been expressed. His people 
could not but feel that, going out and in among them, work- 
ing and praying for their welfare, he was that rarest of all 
beings on this earth, a genuine man, a man absolutely with- 
out cant, without make-believe of any sort, without manner- 
ism ; one who was what he pretended to be, or rather who 
did not pretend to be anything, but simply was as he ap- 
peared. They could not be mistaken in the fact that he 
believed in his heart of hearts that which he gave them as 
truth; that he loved it and lived by it. They could not help 
feeling that God and Christ, and the world in which the un- 
ending life is to be lived, were ever before his mind as reali- 
ties — the only realities. They knew that his daily life illus- 
trated, in no doubtful manner, the devotion to Christ, the 
love and trust, the self-denial and self-sacrifice which he held 
up to them as the marks of all noble and Christian life. Said 
one of his people, after he had been sometime among them, 
' He is a strange man, he actually lives as he preaches ! ' 
Especially did he teach by word and example the complete- 
ness of devotion to Christ, and the perfection of trust in 
Him. 

" No man ever looked out for his own interests or for 
his own comfort less than he. The entire absence of self- 
consciousness was characteristic both of his manners and of 
his life. He never seemed to think of himself at all. He 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 393 

gave himself, with absorbing devotion, to his work. He 
loved it for its own sake. He did not give himself any con- 
cern about his own wants, for he believed that God would 
provide for him such things as he needed. 

" He had a wide sympathy with all classes of people, both 
in and out of his own congregation ; he had a great variety 
of information upon practical matters, learned from actual 
contact with life in all its phases, and thus could talk with 
sympathy and appreciation with people in all employments. 
He loved to work among the poor — those to whom this life 
gives very little that is bright and satisfying, and who 
have but little to lead them to a hope for the life to come. 
He believed in the Gospel of Christ as the one thing which 
the world needed, and which could do for the world accord- 
ing to its need. He believed that the Gospel could uplift 
the lowest as well as the more respectable ; that none were 
too low down to be reached or too desperately bad to be 
redeemed ; to all he went w T ith the same straight-forward, 
unselfish, conscious, cordial manner, yet none of any class 
ever presumed upon his kindness to approach in unseemly 
familiarity ; while they were drawn to him by his sympathy, 
they instinctively felt themselves in the presence of a great 
soul, and in their hearts and manner did him reverence. 
He was untiring in his labor for the temporal as well as the 
spiritual prosperity of his Church, for he believed that the 
condition of a church in its temporalities had much to do 
with the possibility of its spiritual growth ; every part of 
the work of the Church felt the inspiration of his presence, 
and his people began soon to catch something of his energy, 
and to work with an interest that was new to them ; the 
effect of his devotion and earnestness soon began to appear 
in the interest which was everywhere felt, and the life which 
was everywhere showing itself throughout the congrega- 
tion. He had the satisfaction, before he left, of seeing a 
congregation united and ready for every good work ; a 
church filled from Sunday to Sunday with more than usually 



394 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

attentive listeners ; the Sunday school and mission school 
giving evidence of life and usefulness in the large numbers 
that attended, in the interest which children and teachers 
manifested in their school, and in the spirit which pervaded 
all. But the most precious results of his work during those 
two years can never be told by statistics: many of his 
people feel that, in the quickening of their minds, the en- 
larging of their view of spiritual truth, the imparting of a 
higher ideal of Christian manhood, and the gaining of a 
deeper sense of the value of life and the dignity of being, 
they have received that of which eternity alone can reveal 
the worth." 

From Rev. Phillips Brooks. 

" Marlborough Street, Boston, 

October 10, 1877. 
"I assure you with much pleasure of the deep interest 
which I have long felt in your friend Mr. Perinchief, and 
the value which I learned to place upon his character and 
work. I read his sermons when they were printed with 
much satisfaction, and now I am glad indeed to know that 
we are to have some account of a life so full of active thought 
and noble standards. It cannot but be interesting and inspir- 
ing. 

" Accept, my dear sir, the assurance of my regard, and 
believe me, 

" Most respectfully, yours, 

" Phillips Brooks." 

From Rev. Wm. R. Powell. 

" St. Paul, Minn., Dec. 19, 1877. 
" Dear Sir : Your letter regarding our late friend, the 
Rev. 0. Perinchief, was forwarded to me. It was the first 
I knew of his death. I was thinking of him only a short 
time since, and purposing to write to him. I regret deeply 
that it is now too late. I send you the only letter of his that 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 395 

T have with me; I think it is almost the last one he wrote 
me. As a preacher, I hardly know enough of Mr. Perin- 
■ chief to form an accurate opinion. From the few sermons 
I heard him preach, the impression left upon my mind is, 
that his style was fresh, original and vigorous; his manner 
of delivery natural, earnest and full of sympathy. But while 
he was very acceptable as a preacher, it was, I think, in his 
pastoral relations — as a man among men — that he was pre- 
eminent; nothing that concerned humanity was foreign to 
him, and his warm sympathy never stopped with expressions 
of good will, but went forth in persevering efforts for the 
-accomplishment of the object which he had in view; and in 
these things he was very practical and business like. He 
never thought of seeking anything for himself, but when he 
had set his heart upon doing a good for another, he did not 
hesitate to call in the assistance of those with whom he had 
influence. And, I judge he had such a way of doing this, 
that he made them feel that they had a personal concern and 
interest in the matter. Besides the daily calls for help which 
came to him as a minister, he always seemed to have some 
special case of assistance on hand; when he conferred the 
greatest favor and that which cost him most care and effort, 
he yet did it in such a matter-of-course way, as if it were the 
most ordinary thing imaginable ; as if he could not have 
done otherwise and be a minister of Christ. He helped me 
to prepare for the ministry, both pecuniarily and by his brave, 
cheerful, encouraging letters, and at a time when I fear, he 
himself had his embarrassments, or when at least, his ill- 
health must have borne upon him with depressing weight. 
He certainly was a true man, a true friend, and faithful 
minister." 

Letter from Rev. Johnston McCormac. 

" Empire City, Oregon, December 14, 1877. 
"Your letter of November 3d is received, and in reply 
I would say that I approve highly of your work and labor 



396 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

of love, for our dear friend Perinchief. He was a good man 
and true one, who should long be remembered, and whose 
memory is ' blessed.' Unfortunately I have but one letter 
of his at hand just now, and that one, I can by no means 
part with. I have just read it for the first time since I 
heard of his decease, and could I depict the feelings it called 
forth, you would not wonder at my reluctance to give it up; 
it was all his heart, in response to all my heart, on a subject 
of the most vital interest to both, and one which I know, 
for my sake, he would never consent to see in print, In a 
box of books which I expect to receive from Toronto, 
Canada, in a few days, I have a great number, I think, of 
my dear friend's letters, a good many of which may be 
interesting to you, and those I will be very happy to send 
you. 

" Dear Perinchief ! He was the only friend that ever I 
had who seemed perfectly to understand me, and in whom 
I could confide. Ever since we first met as freshmen, in 
Trinity College, Hartford, (where, as a classmate, he once 
lay at my bed side all night to defend me from the 'ire' 
of the vengeful Sophomores,) to the day of his death, he 
had a place in my confidence, which no other man ever 
enjoyed, and which, by thought, word or deed, he never- 
betrayed. He was the very soul of honor and integrity ; 
his candor was perfect transparency; in the light of it, you 
could see him through and through. He was just what he 
seemed to be, at all times, and as he had always a supreme 
regard for candor and truth, so he had always supreme scorn 
for all sham and show. 

" All the time we were chums in college, I never knew 
him to equivocate from the truth in the slightest, or to do 
or say a mean thing ; he loved order and neatness, and had 
a keen sense of the ridiculous. How he used to laugh at 
old Janitor Jim's ' cleaning up,' which consisted oftentimes 
of two or three sweeps of a broom, and a look at the steps. 
Though naturally hasty, he very seldom ever allowed his- 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 397 

temper to run away with him ; once, however, I remember, 
I caught it, for the slovenly manner in which I straightened 
up after ' old colored Jim.' 

" He was always firm to his purpose, and whatever he 
undertook to do he did it with all his might — whether it 
was to prepare a lesson in Greek or to make a fire in our 
little ' Salamander.' His talents were unquestioned, and if 
he did not attain to high places in the Church, it was because 
his honest adherence to truth elevated him so far above 
all time-serving and men-pleasing. 

" A kinder heart, perhaps, never beat within a human 
bosom. This may seem extravagant to some, but certainly 
to none who knew that heart as well as I did. ' Non inex- 
pestus loquar.' I have had a good deal of trouble in this 
world, and for over twenty years, in every storm, I always 
found a human shelter there. 

"'The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed 
be the name of the Lord.' " 

Tribute from Rev. John W. NotL 

" Mt. Savage, Maryland, Aprils, 1878. 

" Sometime since you announced your intention of pre- 
paring a biography of our dear friend, Mr. Perin chief. 
You asked me not only to send you such letters as I still 
retained of his, but to send also my own recollections and 
remarks. I have not yet prepared anything such as I should 
like to do. Yet it may be desirable for you to see, if not to 
use, some extracts from the sermon that I delivered at Mt. 
Savage the Sunday after the funeral. I transcribe a portion 
in the following pages : 

"'If we had a parish calendar appointing days for the 
solemn remembrance of those saints of God who had run 
any portion of their course among ourselves, we should have 
certainly one clay fixed for calling to mind the life and ex- 
ample of Octavius Perinchief. It is right for us to call him 



398 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

to remembrance, not only because it is becoming so to do, 
but because it is useful so to do.' * * * 

"■'The righteous shall be bad in everlasting remem- 
brance.' We can make a special and useful application to 
the life that has just ended. That life was evidently and 
emphatically a righteous life, the life of an upright, God- 
fearing man, who loved his fellow-man because he believed 
in God, and whose faith in God expressed itself, not only in 
eloquent words, but in deeds of active love. In connection 
with that venerated name that we call to mind to-day, I en- 
deavor to show you what it means for the just to be had in 
everlasting remembrance. I mean to say that it does not 
consist in the fact that the events ofsuch a person's life, his 
birth-place or his death-place, or the parishes in which he 
served, or even the thoughts and expressions that he used 
in his sermons, are distinctly remembered; but that such a 
life remains after death, after the features are forgotten, 
after all those have passed away from earth who can recall 

anything about him, still remains a power in the world. 

******* 

" I shall not attempt to analyse the character of our friend* 
Those of you who remember him, remember him vividly, 
lie was not a man to be vaguely remembered. If his life on 
earth seems now like a dream, as past faces and past events 
always seem to move in a dream, it is like a dream of pecu- 
liar distinctness and power; one of those dreams that influ- 
ence and fashion lives. Nor shall I attempt to enumerate 
the events of his life; that is the work of the biographer. 
So F neither attempt to tell the story of his life nor to go 
largely into any account of his character. Perhaps, if I said 
that his most predominant -trait was a great-hearted intensity, 
I should not be far from right. He had an intense love for 
reality, but at the very same time a most tender love for 
human beings. In this he resembled two men who entered 
into life not long ago, Charles Kingsley, in far off England, 
and William A. Muhlenberg, in near America. The fune- 



TRIBUTES OK AFFECTION. 399 

ral in Eversley church and churchyard of Charles Kingsley — 
that in, the chapel of Saint Luke's hospital and Saint John- 
land of William A. Muhlenberg, seem to rise naturally in 
our thoughts and stir our feelings as we think of those last 
services said on Thursday of this week over the remains of 
that friend and pastor who, I know, kept always a tender 
remembrance of his (lock at Mount Savage, in the depths of 
his great heart. The two great men oi' whom I have spoken 
in elose connection with your, and my friend, had this advan- 
tage over him, that they held their intense love of mankind, 
their eager desire to accomplish work in vigorous bodies, 
while his ardor burned in a weakly and diseased frame, 
till that frame was thoroughly burned out. * * * 

"And while his soul is living in Paradise, his life is 
living here, here in Mount Savage, here in this world, in 
every place where men have glowed and melted under his 
words, and have striven to live pure and upright lives after 
his example. It is living now, in thai conscious memory 
that reealls so vividly his tones and looks; it will live here- 
after as long as the human race shall live in the world, in 
that unconscious memory which makes the life of every good 
man one of those indestructible forces that keep on doing 
good though men may have forgotten the name," &c. 

Letter from John A. hit) nn. 

"Georgetown, D. C, October 3, 1879. 

"In looking over some old papers, a lew days since, I 
came across the enclosed letter. Should yon deem it 
worthy of a place in your forthcoming work, it is at your 
service. 

"I have no doubt the life and correspondence of so good 
a man as Mr. Perinchief will be eagerly sought for, and its 
appearance hailed with sincere delight by all who knew 
him. 

"I have been in this world \'ov a longer time than is gen- 
erally allotted to many, and have been long connected with 



400 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

our beloved church, both in this country and in my native 
land; and I can say, that so eminent a Christian I have sel- 
dom known as Mr. Perinchief, and especially in those beau- 
tiful traits of character that so readily reach the heart. His 
charity was not the cold article, so abundant in the world. 
His was Heaven-bom, and felt deeply the distresses of others; 
and none, I believe, in their trials ever applied to him in 
vain. I shall mention two instances that occur to me. A 
poor woman, whom my family employed as washer-woman, 
had the misfortune to be tied to a worthless, drunken hus- 
band, and was frequently in great distress. We recom- 
mended her case to Mr. P. ; he took her address, and paid 
her a visit; was deeply moved at the squalid misery and 
want he observed — a few chips of wood on the hearth, and 
scarcely a particle of furniture in the room. Have you no 
stove, he inquired? No, sir, we have not had one for a long 
time. Have you any food? No, sir, none. He left. In a 
short time a plentiful supply of food reached the starving 
mother and child. In the afternoon a stove made it's ap- 
pearance, and the next day Mr. P. called to know how the 
stove worked. I do not know, sir, how it would work; we 
have no coal. 'Well, well,' said he, 'how stupid I have 
been.' A load of coal found its way there in the evening. 
On another occasion (late on a Saturday night) this poor 
woman's husband came home intoxicated, with empty pock- 
ets. Not a morsel of anything eatable. What was she to 
do? She disliked, exceedingly, troubling Mr. P., but there 
was nothing else to do. She went to his house. He him- 
self opened the door, and invited her in ; he desired her to 
be seated, while she told her sad story; he started down to 
the pantry; there he was informed there were but two 
loaves, and it would be impossible to get more bread until 
Monday, and what will the children do? 'Well,' said he, 
'this poor woman is one of God's children, and I cannot 
send her away unrelieved.' She got half the supply of 
bread, and other provisions, in the house. 



TRIBUTES OP AFFECTION. 401 

" After Mr. Perinchief left Georgetown, a poor woman, a 
pensioner on the parish, made application for her monthly 
allowance. She received five dollars. 'Is that all?' she en- 
quired. 'Yes, that is all,' replied the pastor; and the book 
was shown to her. ' Why,' said she, ' Mr. Perinchief al- 
ways gave me ten.' Comment unnecessary! He was the 
most unselfish mortal I ever knew." 



While this volume was undergoing a final supervision, 
it was deemed inexpedient to insert all the materials which 
had been fixed upon at the beginning, for fear of making 
it too large. Among the chapters omitted was one contain- 
ing his " parish letters" chiefly of an official character, setting 
forth his reasons for accepting or resigning the positions he 
had held among the mountains or in the cities, where his 
toilsome lot was cast. Another omitted chapter, is one 
containing the " critical opinions" of many eminent men, 
published in the leading journals of the day. But, good 
and gifted as he was, and precious as his personal ministra- 
trations were, to people, without number, the breadth and 
brilliancy of his intellect, can only be measured by his ser- 
mons. Those which have been published, and heartily 
enjoyed by men of culture, bear only a small proportion to 
those which are still in manuscript ; and in due time several 
volumes will be added to the two already published. And 
now, by way of fortifying myself in the enthusiastic opinions 
I have expressed of this remarkable man, I cannot refrain 
from quoting what has been said of him by two of the 
representative men of this country. The late William C. 
Bryant, in his own journal, the Evening Post, published the 
following : 

" Mr. Perinchief is a clergyman of the Episcopal Church, 
a man of great merit in his profession, attentive to its 
26 



402 OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 

humblest as well as its highest duties, and in his ministra- 
tions addicting himself more to those views which have a 
direct influence upon the life and character than to the 
dogmatic theology of the denomination to which he belongs. 
The book before us (the first volume of sermons) gives 
evidence of this. The author is in sympathy and accord 
with good men of every denomination. These sermons 
avoid controversial topics ; they treat the differences which 
divide Christians as matters of inferior moment; they dwell 
upon those views to which the founder of Christianity gave 
the principal prominence in His teachings; they take up 
and the} 7 leave certain doctrines of the E"ew Testament 
where that book takes them up and leaves them, without, 
as Robertson says, proceeding 'to harden them into dog- 
mas.' It has often occurred to us what a marvellous fresh- 
ness is given to familiar truth — such as those of religion 
and morals — when they are treated by a thoughtful man of 
a well-stored intellect, who follows the lead of his own 
reflections, instead of filling his mind with those of other 
men and repeating them. Mr. Perinchief 's sermons are an 
example of this. There is no attempt to be brilliant ; no 
ambition of originality. There is not, as the Chicago 
Tribune justly says, ' one sensational thought ' in the vol- 
ume ; its teachings are of the plainest and most direct kind; 
yet there is a distinct individual character in all these dis- 
courses, which makes them interesting, and agreeably 
detains the reader. They teach a religion of love and 
peace, and of the humble imitation of the great model 
given us in the founder of Christianity. Mr. Perinchief 
was for some time pastor of a church in Georgetown, in 
the District of Columbia, and these discourses have been 
published at the particular desire of his parishoners, who 
wished to possess such a memorial of his weekly teachings." 

In a copy of the Standard of the Cross for November, 1878, 
the Right Rev. Senior Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal 



TRIBUTES OF AFFECTION. 403 

church, B. B. Smith, published a letter about Mr. Perinchief, 
(with a quotation from one of his sermons) which contained 
this paragraph : 

" Had any one told me that the next generation of the 
clergy of that church to which I belong could produce a 
young man capable of conceiving and writing a volume of 
sermons so unique, so full of thought, and so remarkably 
full of Christ, I should have been utterly incredulous. But 
what astonished me more, until lately, I had never heard 
the name of the Rev. Octavius Perinchief, and am still 
almost entirely ignorant of his life, his ministry and his 
early death. Will not some one kindly enlighten us through 
your pages?" 

Iu due time the good bishop was fully informed in regard 
to the history of Mr. Perinchief; he was furnished with 
copies of all the published sermons in which he was so deeply 
interested, that he sent them to a prominent English bishop, 
a personal friend, and after he had been shown portions of 
the manuscript of the present volume, he exerted himself 
to secure its early publication, and in a letter to a friend, in 
continuation of what he had previously uttered, he speaks 
of Mr. Perinchief as a " gifted and holy man of God ;" says 
his writings had awakened admiration " and imparted de- 
light;" and after suggesting certain modifications in regard 
to this volume he concludes : " Still the question returns, 
must the Church and the Christian public be robbed of such 
treasures of thought, and the light of such a bright example 
of heroic self-culture under such crushing disadvantages?" 

In a letter which the good bishop sent me on the 25th of 
September, 1879, when in the eighty-sixth year of his age, 
he says he would be " exceedingly glad to do all in his 
power " to make Mr. Perinchief better known to the world, 
and concludes with a sentiment which I adopt as my own 
last words, 

GOD BLESS THE EFFORT. 



PUBLISHED SERMONS 
BY OCTAVIUS PERINCHIEF. 



Sermons delivered in Georgetown in 1869. 

Sermons delivered in Baltimore in 1870. 

Sermons issued in pamphlet form on various occasions. 

Education in Japan. 
Prepared at the request of the Japanese Minister, Arinori Mori. 



IN PKEPAKATION. 

Sermons delivered in Mount Holly. 
Sermons delivered in Bridgeport. 



H 129 82 4 



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